Forever At Last
by SnowboundMermaid
Summary: Barney and Robin share a moment during Ted and Tracy's wedding, which starts them both thinking about the past…and the future.
1. Chapter 1

New York, 2020

"Want to get a drink or something?" Barney's question echoed in the empty nave of the chapel.

Robin's pulse skipped. "Don't you have to get back to your daughter?" There. He couldn't refute that. Only a couple of seconds now, and she could be out the door, in a cab and off in whatever direction the traffic would allow.

"She's with James and Tom for the day. I'm not allowed back until I spend at least six hours in a row in the company of adults. Back to MacLaren's?" He tilted his head in the direction of the exit, and Robin knew she couldn't refuse. The man still had it.

"Where else?" She answered with the gamest smile she could muster. "Cab or walk it?"

Barney shot a quick glance at Robin's feet. "Think you can handle it in those heels?"

Relief coursed through her. They had a history with cab rides, her and Barney. The only more dangerous location would be hospital rooms. If she could avoid both, she had a chance of getting out of this with what was left of her heart intact. "Walking's good. Nice weather for it."

"Then walking it is." He held the door for her then, and again at MacLaren's, his hand resting for the briefest of moments in the small of her back both times. They traversed the blocks in between in an uneasy silence, stealing looks at the other, then looking away.

She knew this dance. Had done this dance. Done it with him more times than she cared to count, and damned if it didn't always end the same way. She was too old for this stuff. They both were, but damned if they didn't slide into the same old booth as if nothing at all had changed. As if there had been no divorce, as if Barney didn't have a baby. A _baby_. Robin's heart clenched. Her stomach soured. The one thing she couldn't give him puffed his chest with pride. For the thousandth time, she gave herself a mental smack for picking up the phone when Tracy called. The only thing worse than going to an ex's wedding was being in a wedding party that included two exes. She should go. She would go. She scooted to the edge of her seat, one hand braced on the table to push herself away.

"Still drink Scotch?" Barney asked.

_Probably too much_. "Do you really need to ask?"

"That's my girl." Robin didn't want to think about how long it had been since that grin was aimed at her. Warmth pooled in her stomach. "Not _my_ girl," he corrected himself with a playful roll of his eyes. "We're over all that, right?"

"Totally," Robin answered with her best news anchor smile. "Yeah. Same here. Done. Totally over. We're so much like strangers that you could pick me up right now, take me to a cheap hotel and do me until my eyes roll back in my head before I had any idea who you were." She clapped one hand over her mouth. Oh God, that was her truth voice.

Barney's brows shot up. "I was kind of hoping for friends, but strangers is better than enemies."

"Yeah. Friends. Friends is good. Are good. Know what else is good? Scotch. Lots and lots of scotch." Maybe she could offer the first round and make a break for the door.

"Scotch it is. First round's on me." He was out of the seat and at the bar before she could protest. "Glen McKenna," he announced minutes later. He set two glasses and the whole bottle down on the table before resuming his seat.

Robin's eyes widened. "You didn't have to do that."

"Au contraire, I did. This is a special occasion. Ted Mosby got married." He splashed a generous portion of the amber liquid over the ice in both glasses.

"Finally," Robin added.

Barney's jocular mood sobered. "Are you okay with that?"

Robin forced a smile. "Yeah, of course I'm okay."

"Are you sure? Because I saw you getting a little misty there during the wedding."

Robin scoffed. "I didn't cry during Ted and Tracy's wedding. You cried during Ted and Tracy's wedding. Crying is stupid. Weddings are stupid." She picked up her glass and took her first drink. First of many, she guessed. It was going to take more than one to get through this.

"So you weren't thinking about our wedding, not even once? Not even during the vows?"

Robin rolled one shoulder and stared down at her drink. "Nope."

Barney turned his own glass in his hands. The ice cubes clinked and slid apart. "Must've been just me, then, huh? I thought we might have had a moment. Guess not. No big deal."

"You're all soft and emotional now that you're a dad. You're so soft that you're halfway to being the mom."

The smile Barney gave her then didn't reach his eyes. "Guilty."

"Got any pictures?"

In that instant, he brightened, the impish grin that still haunted her nights now blinding her with its intensity. "Only like a million." He moved into Robin's side of the booth and scrolled through the pictures on his phone. His voice washed over her as he narrated each one. She didn't catch the words, only the tone. It was enough.

Robin knew that tone of his voice, that look of complete and utter devotion on Barney's face, all too well, both in the picture and in person. It hurt. That tone, that look used to be for her. It had been, on their wedding day and so many days after until she pushed him away. When he came to the end of the pictures, and turned expectant blue eyes on her, she had to say something. The silence between them would suffocate her if she didn't. "You said Ellie was staying with James and Tom, not her mother. I noticed you don't use her name."

Barney winced. "Had to go right for the tough question straight out of the gate, didn't you?"

"That's why they pay me the big bucks." Pause. "Unless you'd rather not say. It's none of my business. This isn't an interview. I'm just in work mode pretty much all the time. Forget I asked."

A sad smile played about the corners of Barney's mouth. "No, my therapist said it's good to talk about it."

"You're seeing a therapist?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Therapy guy. Sounds better."

"Right. Therapy guy."

"Ellie's mother has issues. More than I do, if you can believe that. Remember all those empty headed twenty-two year olds I used to bang? She's their queen. We don't even like each other. Don't even use each other's names. She's #31 and I'm Sperm Donor. Which doesn't make any sense, considering she waived her parental rights before Ellie was even born. I am legally Ellie's only parent, and that is probably far more than you wanted to know. How about you? Lily says you got a dog again."

"Do a couple of specials on dog rescues and look what happens. I can't say no to those big sad eyes." Especially, she added to herself, when they were bright blue and sitting right next to her.

As if on cue, Barney's brows shot upwards, mouth curving in the shape that only came with one of his infamous genius ideas. "Ellie should have a dog. Maybe you could point me toward a good rescue? What breeds are good with babies?"

Robin swallowed. "There's a list of reputable rescues on my website, but sure. I love helping dogs find good homes. A baby and a dog at the same time are a lot for a single person, though. Maybe wait until Ellie's a little older?"

Disappointment chased the brightness from his eyes. "That's probably best. I should start doing the research now, though, right? So I'll be able to make an informed decision later?"

"That's the best way to go. Dogs aren't toys; they're for a lifetime. Do you know what kind of dog you, um, Ellie, might like?"

"Um, Canadian?"

Robin blinked. "Canadian?"

"You know, those yellow dogs that look like Golden Retrievers but not as shaggy? Do they shed a lot?"

"Labrador Retrievers? They're a pretty energetic breed. They'll need lots of exercise. Maybe you should spend time with different kinds of dogs. I'm hosting an adoption event in Central Park next Sunday. You could bring Ellie and see how she does around dogs. Get her used to them early. The official start is at nine, but I can get you and Ellie on the VIP list. Come early and get a peek behind the scenes?"

The smile came back, cautious this time. "It's a date. Not a date-date, I mean. A dog date. For Ellie."

"For Ellie," Robin echoed and took a drink. The Scotch slid down her throat, but didn't do anything to warm the empty coldness that gripped her stomach. Not a date. Of course it wasn't a date. He didn't think about her that way anymore. She couldn't think about him that way either. Not her Barney anymore; Ellie's dad.

They drained their glasses in silence. Robin tipped her glass forward, tapping it against the side of the bottle.

Barney filled first her glass and then his. "Can I ask a quick question?"

"Sure."

"If I had, hypothetically speaking, asked you on a date-date, you would have said no, right?"

"No."

"That's what I thought." Barney pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds. "So, you think Ted and Tracy are doing it in some airport bathroom right now, or fighting over who gets to call Virginia and Clint to check on the kids first?"

Robin reached across the table to lay a hand on Barney's sleeve. "Ask me again."

"Do you think Ted and Tracy-" He broke off as she closed her hand about his wrist.

"That's not the question I want you to ask me."

Three deep furrows crinkled his forehead, lines fanning out about his eyes as he regarded her with keen interest. "The only other question was about us going on a date, and we both know that's not going to happen."

"Barney." She let his name hang in the air, only long enough for the energy that prickled between them to overpower the hesitation that wanted to drag her out of the booth, out of the bar, back into her safe, solitary life where Barney Stinson could never break her heart again. "We _don't_ know that."

The eyes he raised to her now were guarded, the purple shadows beneath them standing out against his fair skin. "Please don't make this into some kind of joke."

"I'm not. We did share a moment during the wedding, and it scared me. It scared me a lot, because it made me realize something." She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths before she could look at him again. "When you looked at me like that, it was like being right back there at our wedding."

"Was that a bad thing?"

Robin released Barney's sleeve and laced her fingers through his. "No. It wasn't. Ask me again. Not about Ted and Tracy."

"Okay. Robin Sherbatsky, would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Yes, I would."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own HIMYM or anything vaguely related to it. This is my own what-if imagining.

"I'm sorry, you said you want us to take Ellie again tomorrow because you have a what?" James's turned off the faucet and braced both hands against the kitchen sink.

Barney set the latest dish in the drainer. "I have a date." He felt the crack of the wet towel on his face before he'd even notice James grabbing the towel from his shoulder.

"What the hell are you thinking? You are the single father of a newborn. Dating," James paused to make air quotes with his fingers. "Is what got you into this mess in the first place, so no, Tom and I will not watch your daughter while you go bang some barely legal bimbo. You're a father now. Act like one."

"I'm not banging any bimbos. I'm done with all that." Barney put a hand to his jaw, touching an experimental fingertip to the spot that stung from James's assault. No blood, but it would leave a mark. "The date is with Robin."

In that instant, James's expression turned from anger to curiosity, brown eyes going wide. "Robin-Robin? Your ex-wife, Robin? Robin Sherbatsky? Junior?"

Barney reached across the sink and turned the water back on. "Yes, Robin-Robin. We had a moment during the wedding, so I asked her to have a drink after. She asked me to ask her on a date, and I did. She said yes. Can you guys watch Ellie again tomorrow, or what?"

James chanced a glance at the back door. "Between you and me, Tom would say just leave her here and come back Sunday. I think he wants another one."

Even a few months ago, Barney would have said James and Tom could have the kid, free and clear. Sometimes it still seemed like the best option. Stable married couple versus single guy who didn't know what the hell he was doing; the choice should be obvious. Except Ellie was his. Only his. He owed her. "Let me guess. He has another one of those clients?"

James nodded. "He had to carry a six month old out of a drug dealer's apartment on Monday. Let's just say his arrival was not met with a warm welcome. Social work is an extreme sport, at least the way Tom does it." Admiration for his husband shone in James's eyes. "Some cases get to him. Can't say I blame him. I don't know if I could do half of that."

Barney took the wet plate James handed him and scrubbed it with the dish towel. "So that's why he had to conveniently take Ellie for one more walk around the neighborhood before I came to get her?"

"Pretty much. We weren't even done with breakfast before he had her in the sling. Trust me, any time you want to put that girl in his arms, he's fine with it. So, Robin again, huh? You know I need details."

_Robin again_. Barney liked the sound of that. He allowed himself the barest smile as he set one plain white dish in the drainer and accepted the next. "I didn't think Robin was even going to come to the wedding, but Tracy twisted her arm. I tried to play it cool, but," he shook his head, "It was crazy. Being in the same room with Robin, it was like nothing had ever happened and we could pick up exactly where we left off." He could have asked her that, he chided himself. _Want to forget this whole divorce thing and be us again?_ She'd have gone for that. Maybe after the second scotch. Possibly the third. _Unpause_?

"After going through a divorce and you having a baby with somebody else? Kind of hard to ignore those little details. Careful with the mug. Sadie painted it herself, and if we lose any of those flower petals, there's going to be hell to pay."

Barney accepted the mug with all due caution, swiping the towel around the rim with surgical precision. "You mean you have to go back to the ceramics store so she can make another one." He turned the mug upside down to get beneath the handle. Delicate green vines twined around purple and white petals. "She's not half bad at this."

James flashed a smile of paternal pride. "Good, because you're getting one for your birthday. Ties, though, not flowers. Seriously, though. Divorce. Baby. Robin."

"I know. I knew from the first time Number Thirty One told me she was pregnant, that I'd probably lost my last chance with Robin. When the paternity tests proved Ellie was mine, I knew for sure that door was closed forever. That was the worst part, but," he set Sadie's mug aside, "Robin opened it. At least I think she did. She asked me to ask her on a date. That counts, doesn't it?"

"How exactly did Robin ask you to ask her on a date?"

Barney shrugged. "I pumped Lily for Robin information, in case we ended up alone together. Lily said Robin had a new dog, so I figured that was a safe topic of conversation. Maybe if we talked about getting a dog for Ellie, I could have an excuse to talk to Robin again. Visit shelters, buy dog stuff. She really loves dogs."

James chuckled. "I remember. Are you seriously adopting a dog for your infant daughter so you can talk to a girl one more time? You have it bad."

"I have it bad for Robin. I'm still in love with her. I don't know how she feels about me."

James turned off the water, upended the now-empty dishpan, and placed a brotherly arm about Barney's shoulder. "You go on that date on Saturday and find out. If she asked you to ask her out, odds are in your favor."

As if on cue, the back door swung open. Tom cradled Ellie in her gray flannel baby sling, his smile dimming at the sight of Barney. "Guess you'll be wanting Ellie back now."

Barney draped the dishtowel over the faucet and crossed to meet Tom at the door. "Afraid so. Watch her again on Saturday?"

"No problem. What's happening on Saturday?" Tom smoothed Ellie's white knit cap before lifting her from the sling and laying her in Barney's arms.

Barney planted a kiss on Ellie's forehead. She looked back up at him with clear blue eyes. "Miss me? I missed you." He did, in a way he had never expected he could. Number Thirty One didn't know what she was missing.

James answered for him. "He has a date."

Tom's lips pursed. "Is that really a good-"

"The date is with Robin," Barney added, positioning Ellie's head on his shoulder. "You're going to like Aunt Robin."


	3. Chapter 3

"Lily, I need you to meet me in dressing room number three in the special occasion section of Flayton's, no questions asked. Bring granny panties."

There was only a second of silence before Lily responded. "Do you need pads or tampons, too? Maybe some butterscotch?"

"Those are questions." The words came out quicker, sharper than Robin had intended. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Once in English and once in French. "Just get here, okay? I know I've been a crappy friend lately, but I really need you now. Please come get me. Please."

"Marshall? I'm going out." Lily's voice cut through the chaos swirling through Robin's mind. "You hang in there, okay?. Do you want Marshall to stay on the phone with you until I get there?" 

Heat flooded Robin's cheeks. "No. Don't tell him anything. Bring granny panties. The biggest, droopiest ones you can find, with elastic thick enough to hold up a baby elephant. I want to be able to pull those suckers up to my armpits."

"I'm on my way. You'll be okay, I promise."

"Okay," Robin echoed, then added, "hurry." She ended the call and dropped the phone back in her purse, then drew her knees up to her chin on the narrow bench of the dressing room. What the hell was she doing?

Two out of the four hooks on the wall held an assortment of dresses in a rainbow of black, red, blue and purple. One held Robin's sensible brown leather satchel, and the other remained empty. She fixed her sights on the empty hook, willing her breathing to slow.

A hesitant rap sounded on the dressing room door. "Ma'am? Are you all right in there?"

Robin drew in a cleansing breath and let it out as slow as she could. "Have you ever seen anyone have a panic attack?" she asked in the same voice she used to describe bullets and mortar fire.

There was a moment's hesitation before the answer came. "No."

"Okay, then this is your first, but it's not mine." She could do this in her sleep; distance herself from the calamity at hand and relate the facts so they made sense to somebody else even if she didn't understand, herself. "Can you get me a bottle of water?"

"Of course." There was a note of relief in the other woman's voice. Even in the most chaotic situation, specific tasks brought some degree of order. Still, no footsteps sounded. "Can I call someone for you? Do you need medical attention?"

_Probably_. "No. I've called a friend. She'll be here as soon as she can. I need to sit here and calm down. I could really use that water."

"Okay." This time, the footsteps clicked away from the door.

Robin leaned back against the plain white wall. Lily was on her way. Lily would bring granny panties and Robin would select a dress that didn't show them. She'd put them both on and have a civilized dinner with Barney. Friends. She had to think of them as friends. _Date-date_. The word, in his voice, echoed in her ears. It couldn't be that, couldn't ever be that. She couldn't take that chance, put herself in that much danger ever again.

Another knock sounded. "Ma'am? It's Susan. The floor manager. I have your water, and a paper bag in case you need to breathe into it." A flat paper bag, pale blue with the store logo emblazoned in silver, slid under the scant inch between door and carpet. "The bottle won't fit under the door."

No, of course it wouldn't. Robin heaved a sigh and grabbed her shirt from its hook, only buttoning the two buttons. She gave herself a mental smack. Susan probably saw more boobs in any given day than Barney on a good weekend. Barney. _Fuck_. And there, in a word, was the whole problem. She gave the black lace boyshorts beneath her skirt a tug. Lily. Granny panties. Only a matter of minutes now. She slid the lock on the door from closed to open.

The perky blonde twentysomething in an understated black sheath extended the water bottle before Robin could step back. Brown eyes rimmed by too much mascara regarded her with a mixture of concern and surprise. Glossy red lips formed a perfect O. "You're Robin Sherbatsky." Color rose in Susan's cheeks as she covered her mouth, too late to keep the words in.

Robin held a finger to her lips. "Hi, Susan. I can count on you for discretion, can't I, Susan?" She could see it all now; texts, tweets, Facebook. World Wide News correspondent has nervous breakdown in dressing room. She didn't need that. She had to give this girl a job, and fast.

Susan nodded. Her long blonde hair didn't move. "Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, Susan." The old Barney trick, of using the other person's name as often as possible, seemed to work. "I need a distraction, so you're going to put every one of those dresses on me and give me the whole sales pitch. Designer, price, fabric, the whole deal, got it?"

"Like on the wedding dress shows?"

Robin took a long drink of water. "Exactly." She set down the bottle on the bench and undid her buttons with shaking fingers. "Start with the sparkly red one."

Three dresses later, there was another knock on the door. "Robin?"

Susan's hand stilled on Robin's zipper.

_Lily_. "That's my friend. Can we have a minute?"

Susan opened the door with a polite smile and slipped out without a word.

Lily flew into the room, oversized tote bouncing against her hip. "Robin, sweetie! What happened? Is that hand beaded silk?" She skimmed a hand over the intricate bead work on Robin's sleeve.

"Did you bring them?"

"Right here." Lily dug in her purse and withdrew a brown paper bag. "One pair of granny panties, but I don't think they're going to work with that dress. What are you doing in the special occasion department?"

Robin's pulse fluttered. If only it were that easy. "It's your fault. I only went to the wedding because Tracy promised I wouldn't have to be alone with Barney. She said you'd make sure of it after she left." Anger burned in her gut. It was Lily's fault. It was.

"Crap. I knew I was forgetting something. Sweetie, I'm so sorry. There was the whole wedding and then the sitter called, and you both seemed fine. What happened?"

"You left me alone with Barney, that's what happened. I can't be around Barney, not ever. Especially not during a freaking wedding. When I'm around him, I'm all…" There were no words for all that he did to her. She turned in front of the mirror, the light catching on iridescent beads scattered over black silk. _This one_. She raised her hands in a helpless gesture. "This. Barney and I have a date. Tonight. A real date. He looked at me during Ted and Tracy's vows and I didn't look away and everything came flooding back. Then you left us alone and we had drinks and he wants to get a dog and I asked him to ask me out and he did and I tried to pretend it wasn't happening, but it is and I don't know what to do." The words rushed out of her, fast and urgent, all tumbling on top of each other.

Something Robin couldn't define flashed in Lily's eyes as she swept Robin with an assessing glance, head to foot and back again. "I am really really sorry I wasn't there for you at the wedding, but maybe this is for the best."

"How?"

"Because you're still in love with Barney. You asked me to bring you granny panties because, deep down, you know there is a chance Barney is going to see those panties, isn't there?"

Robin could only nod, mute.

"Sweetie, if you didn't care, you wouldn't care. Since you asked for granny panties, I can only assume you're wearing sexy panties right now. Describe them." She crossed her arms and waited for Robin's answer.

"Black lace."

Lily opened the bag and took out a shapeless pair of pale yellow cotton panties with thick elastic at waist and leg. "You can wear the sexy panties that you wore on purpose to buy a special dress for your date with Barney or you can wear the granny panties you asked me to bring you when you had a panic attack, but trust me, Barney is not going to care about your underwear."

"I know. What I wear isn't going to matter to him. We're divorced. He had a baby with another woman. Why do I do this to myself?"

Lily enfolded Robin in a comforting embrace. "I think you know the answer already."

She did. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay, Sherbatsky. You can do this." Only one hour now, no more time to panic, no more time for indecision. She was going to have to make some difficult choices and make them fast. Lily was gone, the key to the liquor cabinet clutched in her hand. Two pale blue bags with the stylized F of the Flayton's logo hung from the back of the bathroom door. "One dress or the other. Both black tie. No bad choices."

It should have been easier than this. It all should have been easier than this, but it wasn't. For the fifth time since forcing herself out of a lavender scented bubble bath, one that did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves, Robin adjusted the tie on her white terrycloth robe and stared down the two sets of underwear laid out on the duvet cover. Black lace or yellow cotton. Boy shorts or granny panties.

"Alberta, what do you think?" Robin cast a glance at the small black and white mutt who regarded her with bright button eyes from her corduroy dog bed. A triple thump of her tail was Alberta's only answer. "You're no help, do you know that?"

Alberta crossed her paws and let out a contented whimper.

"I'm going out with Barney. You don't know Barney. We used to be married. That's like mates in dog terms. Before that, we were best friends. We were bros." There was a word she hadn't used in, God, how long had it been? Years. "That's, I don't know, pack members? Not everything translates, okay? Now I don't know what we are. He's the one who said black tie. That's like really fancy collar in dog fashion. You know, the pink one with all the rhinestones?"

Alberta rolled onto her back and wiggled her legs in a bid for Robin's full attention.

Robin turned from the bed and bent to plant one hand in the middle of Alberta's speckled belly for a good scratch. Two scractches, three, and she straightened again. "That's all you're getting until you help me figure this out. What I have to do in the next five minutes is pick one of those dresses," she pointed toward the two bags, as if Alberta would even care, "and I can't do that until I figure out what underwear comes first. There is no dog underwear, except for that really weird store on the lower East side that promise I am never taking you to again."

She could stall for a few more minutes. Worst case scenario, she'd still be standing here when the buzzer sounded and Abdul, the doorman, would announce her guest. _Guest_. As if Barney Stinson could ever be anybody's guest. They weren't strangers, no matter how hard either of them had tried to keep it that way. No matter how much she'd wanted to think that was ever going to be possible.

All it took was Ted's hand on her arm, guiding her to her spot at the altar, opposite Barney, as though there was nothing in the world wrong with positioning Robin opposite her ex-husband during a freaking wedding. During Ted's wedding. If ever there were a moment Robin could have literally died from humiliation, that was it, but that wasn't what happened.

His smile, that slightest of nods, and all the pain and confusion and loneliness of the last three years and change melted away. There was only him and only her, only them, together, the way it always should have been. The way it still could be? She didn't know. She didn't want to know. All she did know, she told herself as she made her way to the mirrored vanity opposite the bed and settled onto the padded stool, was that moments like that were the real reason she'd made Tracy promise, made her pinky swear over the phone that they wouldn't leave her alone with that man. He did things to her. Always did. Always would.

Alberta followed on silent feet, then flopped down at Robin's side. Her fuzzy chin rested on the top of Robin's bare foot.

If only all relationships could be that easy. She scratched Alberta once behind her sticky-up ear and set her mind on what she could control. She didn't need to think to make proper use of the bottles, jars, pots and powders arrayed on the polished wood top of the vanity. Fix her attention on her reflection in the lighted mirror, ignoring the giant red Velcro rollers that covered her head in three precise rows. "Hair comes last," she told Alberta, and unscrewed green handled mascara wand from pink tube. Open eyes, open mouth in wide O, like Susan from Flayton's. This, too, was a specific job in the midst of chaos.

_You know I love you, right_? Barney's look at her, that smile, that nod, said it clearer than any words ever could.

_Yeah, I do_. She hadn't been able to hold back her own smile then, couldn't turn off the memories that came flooding back. Standing at another altar, a lifetime and a second ago all at once, opposite Barney, surrounded by friends closer than family, that wasn't something she could forget easily. Couldn't forget at all, and she'd spent the better part of the last few years trying. _Love you, too_. Only it wasn't that easy anymore.

"What do you think, Alberta? Lashes?" Robin batted her lashes at Alberta, who answered with a single sharp bark. "Lashes it is." Applying false lashes would buy her a couple more minutes, but lips would depend on dress and dress depended on underwear, and underwear, well, that depended on her.

"_I say no underwear at all_." It was easy, too easy, to imagine Barney strolling out from a bathroom he'd never even seen, much less used, affixing cufflinks before sweeping black lace and yellow cotton alike from the bed. He'd accompany the gesture with a waggle of eyebrows, then come up behind her, place warm, strong hands on her shoulders and suggested blowing off the entire evening to stay home. Alone. Together. Naked.

Both lashes in place now, there wasn't any more time for stalling. "Crunch time, Alberta. You know, some dogs would have helped out their people by eating one of the choices. Lying down on one is good, too. Get dog hair all over one so there's no way I could wear it. Want to give any of that a try?"

Alberta's only answer was a swipe of pink tongue over the top of Robin's foot.

Robin pushed back from the vanity and settled on the floor next to Alberta. "Must be nice being a dog. Must be nice being fixed. I mean that pug in the off leash section of the park? Nothing? Nothing at all? I'm a person, and I can see it. He really knows his way around a tennis ball." She scooped Alberta into her lap. "Barney is like that pug. He's fun. He's gorgeous. He looks great in a sweater, though he's usually in a suit. One look, and I really, really, really want to play with him."

The wet nudge of Alberta's nose under her chin was all Robin needed to cut through the crap and admit the real reason choosing one pair of underpants took the entire day.

"Thing is, Barney has a puppy. A person puppy. She's real. We're going to see her next week, and I don't want to." Robin squeezed her eyes shut, silently commanding the tears not to come. _Big girl panties, Sherbatsky_, she ordered herself. She knew exactly which ones they were.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ms. Sherbatsky will be down in a moment, sir." The uniformed doorman's voice held the barest hint of an accent. Dubai, by way of London, unless Barney missed his guess. He rarely did. He'd need about five more minutes of steady conversation to pin down anything more specific. Give him ten, and he could pick out the guy's university and nearest major city. "If you'd like to take a seat, it will not be long."

Barney slipped his wallet from the pocket of his tuxedo jacket and withdrew a pair of fifties for a tip. "Thanks," he peered at the gold toned nametag pinned to the breast of the doorman's maroon wool jacket. "Abdul." Without stepping back from Abdul's stand, he scanned the lobby to pick out some detail that could drive the conversation further. "Is that ceiling medallion original? Doesn't quite match the molding, but it does agree."

White teeth flashed against brown skin. "Good eye, sir. You have an interest in architecture?"

Barney set an extra fifty on the stand. "I have a friend who does. Guess some of it rubbed off. You like this building, Abdul? This prewar stuff is good, or are you more of a steel and glass kind of guy?"

"Prewar is my favorite. Someday, I hope to design new buildings in that style. I am a student of architecture."

Ted would love this kid. Chances were, he already did. "Let me guess, Colombia?" At Abdul's nod, he continued. "Professor Mosby?" _Got it in one_.

"How did you know?"

"Told you I had a friend. Next time you see him, tell him Barney says you deserve extra credit."

Abdul nodded. "The university says he will not be in all week. It is not a bad reason, I hope?"

"Nah. Good one. He's on his honeymoon. He'll be in a better mood when he gets back." Barney's head turned at the metallic beep and the swoosh of the elevator doors. He had to force himself not to run. _Robin_. Instead, he counted the paces from stand to bench, crossed the black and white tiles one step at a time. Blood pounded in his ears.

For one endless second, Robin stood framed by the wrought iron scrollwork of the elevator doors. Light reflected from the hundreds of crystal beads scattered over the unbroken column of black silk that covered Robin from shoulder to ankle. One long leg, encased in the sheerest of black stockings, flashed from a high side slit with every step she took toward him on high black heels. Crimson lips tilted up at the corners at the sight of him, and he was lost, lost and drowning.

All at once, he was back at the end of the aisle in that church in Farhampton, heart in his throat as he watched her walk toward him on her father's arm. He was back by the bar at MacLaren's, catching his first glimpse of the girl in the green turtleneck, Ted's words still echoing in his soul. _Hey, Barney, see that girl_? _I'm going to marry her someday_. Barney had seen her then, and he saw her now. He was here, now, most of all, in this moment, finally able to admit the words he hadn't dared back then.

Barney hadn't known then where the thought came from, had dismissed it out of hand because romance and marriage were the farthest thing from his mind. Now, though, he didn't have anything left in him to deny the thought, the words or the truth of them anymore, and so they came, settled in his heart. Present Barney answered Past Ted at last. _No, I am. Again_, he added, to himself, and tugged at the hem of his jacket. "Wow." He had no other words.

Robin turned for him, a slow, deliberate circle, and breath left his body. As demure as the dress appeared in front, the rear view provided an entirely different picture. Instead of beaded silk, the dress had no back whatsoever, nothing but an unbroken swath of skin from neck to the small of her back.

"Double wow."

"You like?"

Barney allowed himself one lingering glance at her, head to foot and back again. "I like. I am honored. It's a little brisk out there for the, um," he passed a hand over his mouth and jaw, "the, ah, part of the dress that is not there behind you."

Robin extended the length of red satin draped over her arm. "I have a wrap. Help me put it on?"

He was by her side in an instant. They'd done this before, dozens, no, hundreds of times. Maybe a thousand. Not nearly enough. This couldn't be the last. He took the wrap from her, unfolded it to its full length and draped it about her shoulders. No kiss on her bare neck this time, no finger twined in one of the tendrils escaping from her upswept hair, not unless she asked for it. A shot of pure electricity shot up his arm from the brief brush of his fingertips against her spine. He took a step back. _Down, boy_. "We should get going, but before we do, in the interest of full disclosure, I did not pull a fabulous black tie evening out of thin air merely because you agreed to go out with me."

"Doesn't mean you can't," she returned with a tilt of her head.

"I had to go to this thing anyway. I mean, I was supposed to go, not that I was going to; do you know how many things 'I have a new baby' can get you out of?" As soon as the words left his mouth, his fingers itched to grab them back. "Sorry."

Robin dropped her gaze. Her lips pressed into a straight line. "No, I can't say that I do know that. Look, if you're having second thoughts, we can just call this off. We had a moment, and it passed. It happens."

"No. It doesn't. That moment did not pass for me, and I don't think it's going to. I didn't want to go to this thing tonight, but I do want to go with you. If you're there, then tonight will actually mean something. You know the guy I used to be better than anybody else, and it may be selfish, but I'd really like to be him again one more time."

Her hand settled on his shoulder and rubbed in slow, gentle circles. "You could have told me you were getting an award."

His head dipped. "I didn't want you to think this was all about me, because it's not. I meant it about what happened during the wedding. If it's a choice between going to some lame charity gala and spending time with you, I would rather spend time with you. I don't care if we sit on that bench and stare at Abdul all night. Wait, how did you know?"

"Barney." Her hand stilled. She regarded him from beneath lowered brows. "What do I do for a living?"

"Okay. You're right. I'm flattered that you did the research, but I didn't do anything. I wrote a check. They may as well give me an award for paying my electric bill." He slid a quick glance toward Abdul's stand. _Good job of pretending not to look, kid_. "Look, can I ask you to do something for me?"

Robin's hand slid from his shoulder, down his sleeve, until it rested by her side again. "Within reason."

"Can this night not be weird? Can we not be ex-spouses for the next few hours? You can be the hot bridesmaid I picked up at my best friend's wedding and I can be," he stopped there. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "I guess I'm still me."

"Still you is good." Robin held out her hand, fingers splayed. "Come on, nicely dressed groomsman who picked me up at my ex-boyfriend's wedding. It's almost cocktail hour."


	6. Chapter 6

Robin led Barney out into the cool of the late spring evening, that moment between daylight and dark that she'd thought once was magic. Maybe, she allowed, as Barney's hand twined with hers, comfortable and warm, it still could be. Relief and disappointment mingled at the sight of the waiting town car. It wasn't a cab. The uniformed driver opened the rear passenger door and stepped back. Robin slid into the seat, Barney close behind.

She breathed in the familiar scent of him, soaked in the heat of his body as he settled only inches from her on the padded seat. That custom blended cologne of his had clung to everything she owned for months after she'd moved out. She'd found comfort and torture both in its presence at the time, and opened herself to it now. Three weeks after she'd moved into her own apartment, she'd come home to find the blue striped oxford cloth shirt she'd stolen from him, washed and hung in her closet as though it was nothing more than just another shirt. Like it wasn't her last tangible link to him. She'd emptied a bottle of scotch that night and asked the cleaning service for a new housekeeper the next morning. That one wasn't going to work out.

"What?" Barney's voice encircled her and drew her back to the present.

"What what?" Robin's breath caught in her throat.

One blond brow lifted, one corner of his mouth quirked. Half amused, half curious, all Barney. "You're staring. Good stare, I hope? Because my second guess is 'wow, he got old.'"

Robin adjusted the drape of her skirt. "Yeah. No. Good stare. You don't look any different. Like not at all. Seriously. How's Ellie?"

"No Ellie tonight, okay?" he asked with a tight smile.

Robin cringed. "Sorry." She inched closer to the driver side door. It would only take a matter of seconds to make a break for it. Kick her shoes off, race back inside and breathe into a paper bag for an hour or two. For starters. She turned at the touch of Barney's hand on her arm.

"Hey. It's not too late to blow off this whole charity gala thing and go play laser tag instead."

Her stomach fluttered. "In this dress?"

"Ah, you're right. With all those beads reflecting the lights, it would end up being a massacre. Although that could be an incredibly strategic move, depending upon the opponents." Inspiration sparked in his eyes. The car pulled away from the curb and into the evening traffic.

She didn't even want to try and hold back her laugh. "No." This was _her_ Barney. If he wanted to be the guy he used to be, she wanted to be the girl he wanted to be with, even if for only one night.

"Well, even if we aren't playing laser tag, which I am not giving up on, by the way, you one extremely deadly weapon in that dress."

Robin lay a hand on his sleeve. Her thumb brushed over soft wool, pausing for half a second on each of the three buttons on his cuff. Twice, the sweep of her thumb came within millimeters of moving from sleeve to skin. "Not looking so bad yourself, mister."

His smile, wide and genuine, lasted only half a second, but that was long enough. "This old thing? I've had it for years. Do not tell me you don't remember this tux. Marshall and Lily's anniversary party. Carly's wedding. That weekend at your mother's where the airline lost our luggage and this was all I had to wear for three straight days?"

She did remember the tux. Remembered helping him into it, and, even more clearly, helping him out of it on more than one occasion. Clothes weren't only clothes with Barney. He wore the history the same way he wore the garments themselves. Choosing this particular tuxedo for this particular date wasn't chance or coincidence. "Um, my mom offered to let you wear my dad's old flannel shirt." Stealing one of the ex's favorite shirts, it would seem, had become a Sherbatsky family tradition. "You said no."

White, green, red and amber lights washed over Barney's features as they moved through the city traffic, painting him in an ever changing palette. "I said _no_, _thank you_. That shirt was buffalo plaid and it smelled like gunpowder." He affected an exaggerated shudder. "It was also three sizes too big. How much did that man layer?"

"It was October in Canada. Everybody layers. I also seem to remember you didn't wear any clothes at any time from Saturday morning to Sunday morning." That, she remembered all too clearly, in vivid and erotic detail.

"_Oh, you don't think I can wear nothing at all for twenty-four hours straight, do you?" _Even now, she caught the indignance in his remembered words, the mischievous light in his eyes._ "Challenge accepted." _He'd done it, too, the idiot.

Robin held up two fingers. "Friday. Sunday. What day is in between those two? You only wore that tux for two days, and not in a row."

Barney frowned in mock offense, one hand splayed over his heart. "Hey. I wore a robe when we went down to breakfast. I had enough respect for your mother to do that. Any and all nudity was restricted to the privacy of our suite, and unless I misremember, a good time was indeed had by all." He punctuated the statement with a rakish grin, his voice low and intimate enough to make her heart skip.

Heat rose in her cheeks. He'd shucked out of the robe the second their bedroom door closed behind him and set the timer for twenty-four hours, to the minute. The time between, they'd found several creative ways to fill. "It was." She placed her hand, palm up, on the scant few inches of seat between them.

Barney placed his hand in hers. One finger stroked the empty space where her wedding ring used to be. "How is Genevieve?"

"As good as she can be. She's my mom. The new anti-anxiety meds seem to be working, but she still won't get on a plane, so I have to go to her. I'm going for Thanksgiving."

"Canadian Thanksgiving?" He followed that with a quick shake of his head. "Can you believe I still have to ask if it's Canadian or American when anybody mentions Thanksgiving? Guess you got to me more than I thought."

Robin gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Guess I did." She lurched into him when the car came to a sudden stop.

The partition lowered. "Sorry, ma'am, sir. Traffic's tied up for the next few blocks. I can try a detour as soon as things get moving, or you can -" The wail of a siren drowned out the rest of his sentence. The car inched forward.

Robin lowered her window and craned her neck to get the best possible view. Flashing lights swept red and blue in the darkening sky. Moving bodies thronged about ambulance and two fire trucks, uniformed police officers guiding onlookers away. "Damn, that's in front of the Coronet. Channel six is here, channel eleven, no WWN. Can you get my phone from my purse?"

Within seconds, the phone was in her hand. Her blood pounded. She'd dreamed of opportunities like this when she'd first started, stumbling on a breaking story while going about her everyday life, and the thrill hadn't left her. She kept one eye on the scene before her while she called up her list of contacts, WWN at the top.

A few meters closer now, close enough that a uniformed officer gestured for the driver to lower his window. Her senses buzzed as the car crept forward and the officer approached.

"Angela!" Robin leaned out the window and waved the officer over.

The electronic beep of Barney's phone sounded. "You know the cop?"

"We go to the same gym. Angela! What's going on?"

Angela strode past the driver's window and approached Robin. "Slow news day if WWN is sending you here. No story here if you ask me. Kitchen fire's out, no casualties, but fire marshall says no gala tonight. Press area is over by the fountain."

The buzz faded to a dull hum. No story. Damn."I'm, um, not working. I'm on a date."

"So this is Greg? I've heard things about you, Greg."

"Thanks, but it's Barney."

Robin squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would shield her from the unbearable awkwardness of this moment. She couldn't look at either of them.

"Well, hi, then, Barney. If nobody's here for press, you need to keep moving. Got to clear this mess out." Angela moved back to the driver and repeated her instructions, then waved the car along.

"So," Barney asked, "who's Greg?"


	7. Chapter 7

"What happened back there?" Barney asked as soon as he caught up with Robin. The woman could have been a track star. Even with her in stilettos, he'd had to break into an all out run to keep up with her, weaving through the oncoming traffic until he caught up with her on the tree-lined park path. "Should I not have asked about," he paused, too afraid the mention of the other man's name would send Robin running again, "you know who?"

Robin swallowed and ran a shaking hand over her upswept hair. Fear glimmered in her eyes, her mouth going tight. "Greg. His name is Greg." Her skin flushed from the exertion of her run, bright spots of pink against skin gone pale. "I don't want to talk about him."

Barney knew this look, the wild animal in her that was perfectly willing to chew off its own leg to escape some real or perceived trap. Knew, as well, what he could do about it. He owed her that much. "Okay, you don't have to, but you do need to calm down. There's a bench over there by that big tree. We can sit for a while. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, just be. I'm not leaving you out here by yourself."

"Just be," Robin repeated, slow and questioning, like she didn't understand the meaning of either word. Still, she nodded. Still, she let him take her hand in his and lead her to the bench, settling her there before he sat down beside her.

Barney draped an arm over the back of the bench, his hand close enough to hike her wrap back onto her shoulder. "I still owe you dinner," he said as soon as he was sure her breathing had begun to slow. "We could find a restaurant. Not Carmichael's, though."

"Smurf penis," Robin said with the barest of smiles. "I don't think they'd allow me back in there, anyway."

"Nah, we could show them Ted's wedding pictures if you really want to eat there. They have his photo by the host stand, so they'd know it was the same guy."

Robin cast him a sidelong glance through lowered lashes. "How do you know Ted's picture is posted at the host stand at Carmichael's?"

"I cannot reveal my sources."

"You mean you took a girl there."

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "I mean I picked up a girl there. Her blind date didn't show, and a kindly stranger, one to whom the bar manager owed a favor that I am too much of a gentleman to mention, oddly enough found himself in the same situation. He then offered to make the best of a bad situation, since they had both already planned to spend the evening with a complete stranger anyway."

"Classy," Robin said, in a tone that conveyed she thought it anything but. "Do I need to ask how the evening ended?"

Barney shook his head at the memory. "Catch and release. That woman was basically Girl Ted. Hopeless romantic, completely devastated, sure she was destined to be forever alone if some guy she didn't even know didn't want to have dinner with her. I couldn't Blue French Horn her. I bought her dinner, told her it was the guy's loss and put her in a cab home."

"You made a Blue French Horn play?" Robin's mouth tightened, slanting at only one corner. "That's low."

He tapped a finger to one temple. "Only in theory, never in practice. I'm not proud of it. _The Playbook II_ tanked. That was right before I went off the rails, so to speak." He'd come up with the idea of a perfect month four shots later. "Sad, huh?" _Sad and desperate_.

There was a moment of heavy silence before Robin turned to face him. "Greg was my boyfriend."

"I had inferred that. Was it serious?"

She brushed a loose lock of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. "He thought it was. It's over now."

"You jumped out of the car and ran when I asked about him. Did things end badly? Do you want him," he made air quotes, "taken care of?"

The tightness about Robin's mouth and jaw softened. "Because you know a guy who can do that?"

"I know a lot of guys who can do a lot of things. Plumbers, accountants, baristas, bartenders, you name it. I hate the thought of somebody hurting you." _Somebody else_, a voice in the back of his head added. She wouldn't have been in the position to be hurt by this Greg person if Barney hadn't hurt her first. If he had any say in the matter, he'd make sure he was the last man to ever break her heart. It was his fault, all of it.

Robin blinked in a rapid, fluttering movement, her head tipped back. He knew that tactic, too. Robin Sherbatsky was not going to cry in public. "I'm okay," she said when he handed over his pocket square. She dabbed at her eyes and crumpled the mascara-smeared linen in her hand. "I left him. We weren't right for each other."

"So why did you run?"

"Because I thought," she paused there, glanced away from him and shifted her feet. "I thought it would make a difference."

"What, that you had a boyfriend?"

Robin answered with a tilt of her head.

"That, Sherbatsky, is the most ridiculous thing I have heard tonight, and this is coming from the man who got a text message that the gala is postponed because some prep cook set a dishtowel on fire. Article One of the Ex Code states that the ex who has a baby is not allowed to take offense at any past romantic partners of the other ex. True story."

"There's an Ex Code?" Robin twisted the tip of the pocket square and dabbed at the corner of one eye. "That's article one?"

Barney scuffed one foot in the dirt. "I made it up when you bolted. Seriously, you're smart, funny, gorgeous, and single. You can date anybody you want. The Gregs of the world are going to happen. Besides, you're on a date with me now. This is still a date, isn't it?"

Robin set the wadded linen on the bench between them and dug in her purse for her compact mirror. She flipped it open and closed one eye, then pressed a fingertip to the root of her lashes. "I'd like it to be." She lifted her finger and blinked again.

"Here, let me. Did you bring glue?"

She pinched a tiny white tube between two fingers and extended it to him. "Do you remember how?"

"Please. I could do this in my sleep." Had done it in his dreams, more times than he'd care to admit. "Eyes up and hold still." He squeezed out a miniscule drop of eyelash glue onto the tip of his finger and tipped her chin upward with his other hand. "Almost there." He applied the glue to the loose end of the lash at the outside of her eyelid. His touch lingered. _One one thousand, two one thousand_.

"Barney?"

"Yeah?"

Her breath caught. "You don't have to press it. It dries on its own."

"I know that."

"So are you going to kiss me or what?"


	8. Chapter 8

Pure wonderment blanked Barney's features. A muscle ticked in his jaw. "You want me to kiss you?" Each word came out on its own, quiet and distinct. His hand quivered as he cupped her cheek, staring at her as if he weren't quite sure she was really there. As if she might vanish into the ether if he broke contact.

In that moment, she wasn't certain of it herself. This hour _was_ magic, a unique moment cut out of time and space, apart from the stark emptiness of the last three years. Almost four. "I do." She'd said those words to him once, in another life. He'd said them back, and she'd known; not thought, known, down to the marrow of her bones, that her life would never be the same again, because he was in it. That same certainty, that knowing, settled upon her now.

"Okay, then." Blue eyes darkened. "I am going to kiss you." He didn't move.

Pinpricks of anticipation danced along Robin's spine. She held still as stone, her breath shallow. The wrap fell from her shoulders, her back bared to the cool night air. "Any time now."

His throat worked. The tips of his ears pinkened. "Don't rush me, okay?"

"Did you forget how?"

Pink flushed to scarlet. "I could never forget anything about being with you. I'm thinking."

She steeled herself to pull back from him. "If you have to think about it, if you don't want to-"

"I want to." The words leapt from him with a life of their own. "I was thinking that it's been almost four years since the last time I kissed you. I thought that was the last time I ever could. If I get this wrong, I'm scared there won't be another chance. I have to do it right."

"You're an idiot." With that, her arms snaked about his neck, her mouth slanted over his. He tasted of peppermint, cool and clean, underscored with the faintest hint of scotch. Her blood pounded at the familiar warmth of his hand on the bare skin of her back. _Argentina_. They hadn't done this since the hotel room in Argentina. They'd devoured each other with a frantic urgency then, both knowing it would be the last time. Each touch, each kiss was a plea and a penance. Justification. Apology. Parting words when there were no words that would bandage the wound, forever raw and bleeding.

This, kiss, though, this was different. This was a first kiss, guarded and uncertain. His lips pressed hers, questing, confessing, innocent and arousing all at once. His hands shaped themselves to her, molded to head and hip. Drew her closer to him, held her firm. The ping of one fallen hairpin, then another, registered at the edge of her consciousness as each hit the metal arm of the bench. She didn't care. She clutched at him, both hands tilting his head so that she could have more of him. As if she could ever, ever have enough.

"OhmyGodRobin."

Robin felt Barney's voice more than she heard it, carried on the warm rush of his breath on her skin. Each syllable bled into the others. They all hovered around her, reverent as a prayer, before the single word those syllables had become settled in her ear and burrowed its way past the fear that even now scratched at the edges of her consciousness. Another exhalation ruffled a lock of loosened hair and sent a shiver down to her very core. She had no words for this. No words at all.

His hand trembled in her hair. Another pin fell. He set himself back from her, his gaze assessing and intent. "Okay so far?"

"More than okay," she answered and reached out to wipe a smear of crimson from his lower lip. "You'll notice I'm not running this time."

"I had noticed that. Thank you."

Robin shouldn't have laughed at that, but there was no way around it. Barney Stinson thanking a woman for not running away from him, his earnest tone and grave expression negated by the traces of lipstick she'd missed on his first pass. The white of the pocket square stood out in contrast to the black of her dress and his tux. She plucked it from the bench and found a clean spot. "Your turn to hold still. Scarlet Siren is not your color."

"I think I could get used to it. I would like to get used to it." He stilled when the linen touched his skin.

She swiped at the smudge of red that clung to the cupid's bow of his upper lip, then traced the curve of his chin merely because she'd missed it. "I think I owe you a handkerchief. Not sure all of this stuff is going to come out; mascara, lipstick, glue."

"I don't care about the pocket square. I care about you. Even after everything we've been through, you know that, right?"

Robin rolled the ruined cloth between her fingers. Black smeared on red. She turned it to a clean patch and scrubbed her fingertips "That's a high compliment to give a girl, putting me before, what is this, Irish linen?"

Barney's head inclined by the slightest degree. "Woven by hand on a two hundred year old loom, and the hems stitched by visually impaired retired nuns. You're better than that any day. He died for a noble cause."

"Do we need to bury him with honor? Fold him like a flag and lay him to rest in his original box in your mom's backyard? Maybe a Viking funeral in the duck pond? We could put him on a paper boat and set it on fire." She couldn't stop the words from coming, her tone too light for what they'd done together only moments before. This was part of them, the crazy schemes, the easy banter she'd never been able to have with anybody else. Her heart skipped. If Barney picked up on her lead, if he followed it, that would be a sign from the universe. If he didn't…she stopped herself there. She didn't want to think about that. "What's his name? Seamus? He looks like a Seamus. He's Irish, right?

"I don't name my clothes anymore. That's kid stuff. We all have to grow up sometime." His shoulders rolled in a shrug far too studied to be genuine.

"Now you're scaring me. You have to name this handkerchief."

He scrubbed one hand over his mouth and chin. "It's a pocket square. Pocket squares don't have names."

Robin frowned at him. The tight set of his jaw didn't ease. She unfolded the square and smoothed it over her knee. "This one does. He's Seamus. If we're going to be us tonight, the way we used to be, then we have to give Seamus a proper funeral."

Barney lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Traditional funeral ale and feasting to follow? Challenge accepted."


	9. Chapter 9

"I think we lost him." Robin glanced back over her shoulder to the wrought iron streetlights that flanked the park exit. Her pulse pounded, blood pumped with the exhilaration of their headlong dash over the bridge that arched over the duck pond. No flashlight cut through the dark, no footsteps pounded the cement. They were alone beneath the streetlights, their only company the food truck parked at the corner.

Barney's hand tightened around hers. "That. Was. Awesome. No way is that cop going to pass his next physical if you and I could outrun him like that. Seriously, how do you run in those heels?"

Robin drank in the splendor that was Barney at his finest. His skin flushed with excitement beneath the sheen of sweat that beaded his brow. Blue eyes shone bright, mischief radiating from every pore of him. "I was highly motivated." That much was true. Barney's whispered '_want to run for it_?' had fired her blood. His hand slid into hers, and they were off, two bodies moving as one. She'd have gone anywhere with him in that moment. Anywhere.

Barney answered with a dry chuckle. "You mean you jumped a mile when Seamus's pyre exploded."

She couldn't deny that. They'd both jumped into each other's arms when the paper boat ignited, shooting orange flame and green sparks into the night sky. "I seem to remember hearing a high pitched, girlish scream."

"That was not a scream. That was a warning. Did you see how high those sparks went? No, you did not, because I distinctly remember somebody's face burying itself in my shirtfront."

He had her there. She'd clung to him from pure instinct, drawn strength from the beating of his heart. "Who were you warning? The ducks? Stray dogs?"

"Hey, it summoned the proper authorities, didn't it? Seamus would have wanted it that way. He was all about cleaning up messes, if you'll recall. Speaking of which, how about that traditional funeral ale? You pick the bar."

Robin shook her head. She'd lost the last of her hairpins somewhere during their flight. Loose hair fell about her face and neck, to brush the tops of her shoulders. "No bar."

"No bar?" Barney pressed the back of his hand to Robin's forehead. "You don't feel feverish. What gives?"

She swatted his hand away, the gesture softened by her lingering touch. "I don't want to go anywhere, okay? This is nice the way it is. You. Me." She cast a glance at the stoop of the nearest brownstone. No lights in the windows. Either the tenants weren't home or had already gone to bed. They wouldn't mind if she sat for a minute. She tugged at Barney's sleeve, urging him to come with her. "Isn't tonight about just us anyway?"

"Us and Seamus, but we pretty much covered his entire life in the eulogy already. He'd have been touched to know he made such a strong impression on you in such a short acquaintance."

"Stinson boys do tend to do that." Robin kicked off both shoes and set them side by side next to her on the step. "Looks like we may need to have another funeral." Her big toe poked through a large hole in the sheer black stocking. A long run stretched from heel to knee. No saving this one. She stretched her leg out in front of her and reached beneath the slit in her skirt to roll the stocking down and off.

Barney's breath caught. "You sure you want to do that here on a public street?" Before she could answer, he'd shucked off his topcoat and held it in front of her like a curtain. "Okay, now you're good."

Robin stripped off both stockings, wadded them and stuffed them in her purse, then sighed with relief. "Done." She stretched out both legs and wiggled red-painted toes.

The coat curtain dropped. Barney aimed a roguish grin at her, one brow cocked. "Backless dress, tumbled hair, bare legs, fresh pedicure. Ms. Sherbatsky, you're trying to seduce me."

"No." She ducked her head with that single word, her voice too high, ending in a sound halfway between a giggle and a snort. _Okay, maybe_. "Is it working?" She peered at him through the curtain of her hair, and arranged her skirt to cover both legs.

"You have no idea how well." He regarded her for a long moment, the silence between them taking on a life of its own. They'd never needed words, her and Barney. At last, he draped his coat over her knees and spread it down over her legs. "Time for that funeral ale and feasting. I'll be right back." He set off toward the food truck, his posture straight, shoulders squared.

She drew her knees up and smoothed the coat over them, the lining smooth and warm on her bare legs. He'd be back. The thought draped itself around her, in calm reassurance. She watched him approach the truck, consider the menu and extract a single bill from his wallet. She'd always hated it when other dates ordered for her, but this wasn't another date. This was Barney. Barney didn't assume. Barney knew, because Barney knew her. Usually better than she knew herself. With him, she was content to wait, content to watch. She flexed her bare toes on the edge of the stone step and tucked her hair behind her ears.

He accepted a cardboard tray from the window and started back toward her, his steps even and quick. Two brown bottles dangled from one hand. "They didn't have anything even remotely alcoholic, so we're going to have to remember Seamus with a fine root beer. I didn't know if you wanted regular or diet, so I got both." He set down the tray next to her and took his own seat on the other side. The scents of cooked meat, fried potatoes and chili reminded Robin how long it had been since she'd eaten last. "Lady's choice."

"Diet, thanks. I worked on a story last year about a possible link between artificial sweeteners and testicular cancer. You don't want to know the findings."

"Probably not." He offered the bottle opener from his keychain, opening first Robin's bottle and then his. "Looking out for my junk like that, there's the mark of a true bro. How can I ever thank you?"

Robin pointed toward the pile of chili fries in their red and white cardboard boat. "Always happy to do my part in protecting a national treasure. I'll take that big fry with all the cheese on it. The women of New York can thank me later. "

He turned the tray to give her better access. "More like the historical preservation society. Believe it or not, this is my first date in months. You don't want to know how many."

She could guess, though. She popped the fry into her mouth and wiped the excess cheese from her lower lip. "That is not the old Barney I know."

"No, it is not. The old Barney is just Old Barney these days." He shook his head, the implication clear, and took a long drink. "I really am too old for that stuff." One bite of hot dog and a pass of paper napkin over his mouth, then, "As a matter of fact, I am so far off my game, I was scouted by the other team last week. True story."

Robin coughed on a mouthful of chili. "No way."

"Way."

"How did the guy not know you like girls?"

Barney's gaze dropped, then rose to hold hers. "I like one girl."

"Right. Ellie." Damn. "Sorry."

"If we're counting her, I like two girls." The echo of his words, and the meaning behind them, hung heavy in the air.

Heat crept up Robin's skin, climbing from neck to face. The tips of her ears burned.

"You have to promise me one thing. Promise me it's not going to be another four years before we have another awesome night like this."

Cold, nagging dread grabbed her ribcage and rattled it from the inside. She put on a game smile. "As long as you can get a sitter, I'm there. Besides, you're still coming to the adoption event next Sunday, right?"


	10. Chapter 10

"Of course we'll be there. It's a park full of puppies. Who's going to miss out on that? Hell, I'd be there even if I didn't have-" Barney stopped himself. _Do not screw this up_. He selected an especially long, especially chili-laden fry and stuffed it in his mouth. Chew, swallow, wipe mouth with paper napkin that was not even in the same league with the late, lamented Seamus, and the right words would come. "Plans to be there already. Seriously wouldn't miss it. Puppies are great. Somebody should find a way to bottle puppy breath. They'd make a fortune. Who doesn't love puppies?" _Yeah, say 'puppies' a few dozen more times. That doesn't sound desperate_.

"They'll have older dogs,too," Robin said after a sip of her root beer. "Puppies almost always find homes. They're little, they're cute, they're fuzzy, and they don't have a clue what's going on. It's the adults who need the extra help. They look all confused, wondering where their people went or what they're doing in the shelter. I can actually see that 'is anybody ever going to love me again?' look in their eyes, that 'is it my fault I'm here? What did I do?' and 'I'll be good, I promise, just love me,' and I want to take them all home."

Barney knew that feeling. He'd had it. Still had it. Sitting on the end of the bed in that hotel room in Argentina, drunkenly assuring Robin that they'd be okay, they'd get through this, when the _this_ in question was the divorce he'd agreed to give her. Asking the lawyer-who-was-not-Marshall to draw up the papers. Clicking the cheap plastic pen sixteen times before signing his name. Number Thirty One's voice, bitter and tight, spitting out the two words that brought his world crashing down. The look on Number Thirty One's face when she signed her name without hesitation and told him and his lawyer to get out of her hospital room. He knew that feeling. "Nah, older dogs are awesome. A lifetime of love in a fur coat. How could anybody give up on that?"

"You'd be surprised. I gave up five of them, remember?" Her eyes narrowed, her brows pinched.

He did remember, and all too well. Out of reawakened habit, he rested one hand on Robin's knee. Skin on skin, the temptation to slip even one finger to the back of her knee was too great. She didn't pull away. "I wish I'd been able to talk you out of that." He'd tried everything he knew at the time. Righteous outrage, threatening to shun Ted like an Amish sinner, making Robin look into five pairs of big brown eyes, talking through the dogs. Everything, up to and including offering to take the dogs himself. He'd move if he had to, and he would have, if that would have put Robin's broken heart back together. In the end, all he'd been able to do was help her get everyone in the car and hold her while she sobbed her guts out at every rest stop on the way back.

"So do I," she said after a bite of hot dog. "Especially considering the prize was Ted." They both shared a sad laugh at that. Her hand covered his, her tone firm. "Don't beat yourself up, especially after all this time. It wasn't your call. That's all on me."

It was. He could see it, in the shadows that had nothing to do with the play of the streetlights on her face. Time didn't make the loss any easier. It never did. "Trying to atone for past mistakes with the rescue work now?"

Robin dipped her head. "Maybe a little. I visited them as much as I could, but it was never the same. My aunt and her partner loved them, but those dogs always looked like their hearts were breaking whenever I got ready to leave. I guess I'd hoped they'd forget me, but they didn't."

Barney worked the edge of one nail under the corner of the label on his bottle. "I know how they feel. Felt. I know the feeling."

"Are you talking about our divorce? I know we said we weren't going to be exes tonight, but…." She let the sentence dangle, her lower lip raised, waiting for his answer. She wasn't going to let him wiggle out of this one.

Barney peeled half the label off in one jagged swath. "No. Yes. Maybe. A little. Why? Did you want to talk about," He rolled the torn label between his fingers, into a tight ball, "that? I mean, we could, if you wanted. I," _Come on, think of something_. _No time for the yips here_. He aimed the paper ball at the trash can by the curb. It bounced off the rim and into the dark. _Okay_. That was something. "I've been thinking for a while about things I'd given up on that I wished I hadn't. I used to love playing the violin, and then one day, I just stopped. I miss that. I didn't know I missed it, and I know it's too late for me, but maybe because I wrote a check, some other kid won't leave something they love behind to become a corporate drone."

Robin's hand closed around his, her nails sharp on his wrist. "Hey. Barney Stinson is not a corporate drone. Don't say that about yourself."

"Maybe I wasn't when we were together, but I am now. At least with GNB, there was a bigger purpose. Lead the scum of the earth down the primrose path, turn over all their secrets to the guys with the badges and know it would all come tumbling down in the end. That made it worth going in every day and doing all the other stuff. Now the other stuff is all that I do. I talk big corporations into giving money to other big corporations. Then I go home and I," Dammit, he didn't have anything else. Work and Ellie were his entire life now. "I go home."

Robin delivered a soft kick to his shin. "What about Ted and Tracy and Marshall and Lily? You see those guys, right?"

Barney rubbed at the torn edge of the root beer label. Glue spot; this part wouldn't budge. He pushed at it with his thumbnail. Small headway, but he'd take it. "The wedding was the first time all five of us," he didn't miss the flicker of pain in Robin's eyes, the way those insanely thick lashes of hers tried to cover it, "the six of us, I mean, were in the same place at the same time in I couldn't tell you how long. Everybody has kids," _Fuck. Everybody but Robin, asshole. Nice going_. The glue spot came free. "Sorry."

"No, don't be." Her voice came tight through lips gone pale. "You guys all have kids. That's a fact."

Barney set the bottle down. "That's not how I meant it. I'm not that into hanging with happily married couples these days. It sucks. All the looks, the touches, the-"

"Finishing each other's sentences," they both said at once.

Robin broke the silence that followed. "Okay, that was weird. I get it, though. It sucks. That's why I had to get some distance. I didn't mean to stay away this long." She took another drink, nursing the bottle as though it held something stronger than root beer. "No, I did, but not the way it sounds. It's self preservation. Two happy couples, both popping out kids left and right. That's too much for this divorced and infertile chick. Even you have a baby." Her hands curled into fists, her nostrils flared. "Dammit. I mean, sorry."

"No, you meant _dammit_. I know you, Sherbatsky." He fished the phone from his pocket and checked the time, then turned the display to face her. "See? Two minutes after midnight. It's not tonight anymore, it's tomorrow. You can say it. I have a baby."

"You have a baby." She repeated the words the same way she would read words on a teleprompter. Her mouth went tight. Her lashes lowered.

He reached for her again, fingers brushing beaded silk. "I have to know one thing before this goes any further. Is my having Ellie going to be a dealbreaker for you and me?"


	11. Chapter 11

Barney's question hit Robin like a punch to the gut. His coat slid from her legs to pool on the step below. She grabbed for the coat, then draped it over her knees once again, the lining cool now against her skin. It wasn't the same. "I can't answer that right now." She worried her lower lip between her teeth. "You have a baby and I'm not her mother." _Do you even have any idea how much that hurts?_ That question, she bit back. He wasn't ready to hear that from her now, maybe never would be. She sure as hell wasn't ready to say it. "Some stranger whose name you don't even use in conversation had a part of you growing inside her in a way that I never could. Never can. That's a lot to process."

"I know it is." Barney scuffed one shoe against the stone step. "I screwed up, Robin. I screwed up bad. I never should have agreed to the divorce. I never should have filed the papers. I never should have signed them. I sure as hell never should have tried going back to being the guy I was before I knew you."

Breath sagged from Robin's lungs. She retrieved the wrap that had fallen behind her and draped it over her shoulders. She didn't ask for his help this time, only pressed a knuckle to the corner of one eye and grabbed for the nearest paper napkin.

_Seamus, you left us far too soon_. "When I thought I couldn't possibly hurt you any more than I already had, I found a new way to do exactly that. There's no way I can expect you to forgive me for any of those things, let alone ask for another chance, but I do still love you. I am still in love with you. I always will be."

Robin's equilibrium failed her. She grasped the edge of the stone step with both hands and leaned against the steady support of the railing. To hear Barney actually say those words, see him look at her that way, the same way he had at the wedding, at both weddings; that was more than she was prepared to take. This was Barney, real Barney. Her Barney, raw and pure and vulnerable, his heart on a platter for her to do with as she would. One foot spasmed, the urge to run overruled by her desire to hold onto as much of his presence as she could.

"Would you please say something? If we can't happen anymore," he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I get that."

"Barney." His name came easily enough. It belonged on her tongue, every day. He looked up at that, brows lifted at the inner corners, the lines about his mouth deep and straight. Only the barest shadow of beard showed beneath his fair skin, a sure sign of a straight razor shave. This evening meant more to him than he was willing to say in words. That wasn't his way. This was. The tux he didn't wear in Vancouver. A Viking funeral for a pocket square. Hot dogs on a stranger's stoop. Robin forced the words past the lump in her throat. "I still love you."

He bloomed at her confession, hope lighting in his eyes for only a second before it dimmed. "But you don't know if you can love Ellie."

"I don't even know her." _I don't know if I want to_. But she'd have to, to be with Barney. She knew that, the fact of the matter plain as black on white. "She's a part of you, right? How can I not want a part of you?"

"Because the other part is some bimbo I picked up when I remembered August has thirty one days."

There it was. "I am a horrible, horrible person." Robin dropped her face into her hands.

In a flash, Barney's arm settled about her shoulders. "No. No, you're not."

She tipped her head back and blinked. Pushed her hair out of her eyes. Drew air deep into her lungs before she could even look at him. "I'm mad at a baby for existing. How is that not horrible?"

"You're not the only one ever to be in that position." His head dropped, eyes focused on his hands. Two fingers of his right hand worried at his naked ring finger. "I never planned on having kids in the first place, especially not as a single father in my forties. That was never part of the plan. By the time Ellie is ready for college, she'll be the one changing my diapers. How is that even fair to her?"

"That's not going to happen." That lost look that came over him, that would be the end of her. "You'll hire some hot nurse whose bra size is bigger than her IQ to do that."

Barney's hands unclenched. He looked up. "I don't think people with double digit IQs get to be nurses, and I will thank you not to be sexist. Not all nurses are female, you know. Felipe in pediatrics is a godsend."

A lump rose in her throat. _Tell him to go_, the fear urged her. She could shut this down now, send him out of her life forever, for good this time, but a life without him in it, that couldn't be good at all. "You love Ellie." All she could manage was a hoarse whisper. It was enough.

"I do." Those words again, plain and heartfelt. "I also love you. I hope you can see that, too."

Her head dipped once. She did, and the pain of exactly how much tore at her. "If it were only you and me, knowing what to do would be easy. Putting another person into the equation, especially a really tiny person, that," she ran her tongue over her lower lip, "that complicates things."

"What," Barney's thumb swept over his ring finger once before he shoved both hands in his pockets, "would you do if it were only the two of us?"

_Take you home and never let you go again _was the first thing that came to mind, but she couldn't say it. "I think you know the answer to that."

"I know what I'd like it to be." That lopsided smile, the lift of one brow, had her almost undone. Almost. This was why she hadn't wanted to be alone with him. Why she shouldn't be. Why she had to be. Barney moved the cardboard box with their food to the next step up and closed the space between them, his leg pressing against hers. "If you tell me to walk away now, I will. At least I'll know I tried."

_Barney Stinson always gets the yes_. Once upon a time, he'd have declared that, she'd have laughed, and the only question they'd have to settle was her place or his. "You don't have to try."

"Yes," he said, "I do. Letting you down the way I did is one of the greatest regrets of my life. The greatest. I'm not sorry Ellie exists, but I am sorry she isn't yours."

Time stopped. The ground shifted. The streetlights swirled and blurred. Robin clutched the wrap around her shoulders so tightly that the beads dug into her flesh. "What are you saying?" She couldn't have heard him right. He couldn't have said what she thought.

"I'm saying I wish Ellie was yours. I pretended she was, the first couple of days I had her home." His gaze held her, steady and direct. "That was the only way I could keep it together, by telling myself you were in the next room. Taking a nap. At work. On assignment. Visting family in Canada. I know, lame, but that's what I had to do to get through it. Thought I should be honest about that."

Robin picked up her bottle. Empty. She tipped it to her mouth anyway. She needed the time more than she needed the drink. "I'm not anybody's mother."

"I know. I'm not asking you to be, but Ellie is a part of my life, and that's not likely to change. I'm asking you," His keys jingled in his pocket. "I'm asking you to go out with me again. I can't promise any Viking funerals next time, and I do have a baby and I am probably the last person on earth you should even consider getting involved with, but I am still asking."


	12. Chapter 12

Robin's legs crossed and uncrossed under the drape of Barney's coat. This was midnight at MacLaren's all over again, waiting for her to come through that door. He'd done his part, hard as it was. Her turn now. She smoothed the coat so it fell straight from knee to ankle. Turned one foot and examined the polish on her toes. "I already am. Sunday, remember? Park full of puppies?"

"That's not a date-date. You're working. I'm bringing Ellie. You're probably bringing your dog. Alberta, right?" He waited for Robin's nod. "I mean a time when you and I can focus on each other. Four years is a long time not to be in each other's lives. Don't you think we need to get to know who we each are now?" He studied her in her silence, the way she fingered one button on his coat, her finger circling its rim in counterclockwise motion.

Her brow furrowed. Her jaw thrust forward even as her gaze dropped. She reached for her shoes, then put them back. "Why do you have to make so much sense?"

"It's a blessing and a curse. So, is that a yes to a second date?"

"It's a yes."

"Awesome. How are we going to do this?" Barney rubbed at the back of his neck. "You've got work, and I need to find someone to watch Ellie."

Robin opened her purse and took out her phone. The image of a wiry-haired black and white mutt with one floppy ear filled the screen. "I'm on air Friday night, so that's out. Alberta and I are both spending all day at the groomers on Saturday. Your turn."

"My mom could take Ellie on Mon—scratch that. Women's Bible study at Sam's church is Mondays now, but that does mean she's available on Wednesdays."

Robin made a show of tugging at her ear. "I'm sorry, that sounded like you said your mother was attending a Bible study."

"Running it, actually. Long story. She and Sam are really happy. They're good for each other." If forty years apart didn't put out that fire, four years was nothing. "How's Wednesday night for you?"

"Working. Thursday, too. Tuesday?"

Barney scrolled back in his calendar. "Teleconference with the Swedes. Damn."

"Who watches Ellie during the day?"

He thumbed the screen and scrolled to the next week. "She's in company daycare. I drop her off in the morning and check in at lunch. There's a monitor that connects directly to my office, and the staff gives regular updates. Sweet deal."

"So maybe we could do lunch?"

Barney leaned in and kissed Robin full on the mouth, her lips soft and pliant. "You are a genius." Lunch was perfect. No pressure, out in public, in the middle of the day and they'd both be expected back at work after. "Do we want to rule out the already booked days ourselves or let our assistants wrangle this one?"

Robin reacted with a visible shudder. "The less Patrice knows about my personal life, the better."

She had a point. "Sneaking around already? I like where this is going. List me as a contact from Harmon Coulter and nobody has to know anything." He called up his list of contacts. "Sending you my new work contacts now." He craned his neck to get a better view of Robin's screen. The alert for his message flashed.

"You're at Harmon Coulter now? You really are a corporate drone." Robin opened the message and tapped to save the information.

"Told you. I've had more exciting jobs, but the benefits are awesome. I have to think about Ellie now. Where's Alberta all day?"

Robin's expression softened at the mention of the dog's name. "Doggy daycare. It's a couple blocks over from the WWN building, and they do not provide a monitor, but I can check on the website."

"Sure it's not the same place? Let the kids play with the dogs, maybe share some toys, possibly the same snacks. Cost effective and promotes a healthy pet/child relationship from an early age. Harmon Coulter should look into that. That way, if future dates go well, we can drop off Ellie and Alberta in the same place." He loaded his voice with enough humor that he could claim he was joking if he needed to. That all depended on how she took it. He planted one hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing.

Her laugh calmed him. "Not getting ahead of yourself there at all, are you?" The angle of her mouth, the way her eyes crinkled, rushed a liquid warmth through his veins. Even the finest scotch couldn't beat that. "How about Monday?"

He checked his screen. "Nope. Parnters meeting. I'll be working straight through lunch and possibly dinner. Tuesday?"

Robin scowled. "Would you believe Big Daddy Beezy is surprisingly passionate about literacy among at risk youths? Tuesday noon is the only time WWN can get an exclusive, and we have to provide him with vegan barbecue."

Barney flinched at the mere mention. "Ouch. I promise I will give you meat on our date." He replayed the words and flashed an apologetic grin. "That came out wrong. Beef. Pork." Even worse. "I will provide you with food that had a face and a mother. Tell Sean I said hi."

"Wait, you know Big Daddy Beezy? You called him Sean?"

"Yeah. We're talking Sean Cutler, right? Big guy with baroque tattoos? We were on the fundraising committee for the Keep Arts in School foundation. You know, where we did not end up going tonight? Don't let him guilt you about eating meat, because he's going to try."

Robin raised one brow. "There's a story there. Wednesday?"

"Wednesday looks," he frowned at the screen. "Nope, spoke too soon. Pediatrician. Regular visit, no big deal. Thursday?" His pulse skipped. At this rate, they'd get to the weekend without a free hour. Robin would rattle off the name of some city on the other side of the world and lunch this week would turn into a vague someday. He wasn't prepared for the anger that roiled low in his gut.

"Thursday is good. Where are we going?"

Where indeed? Barney pulled up an app. "Assuming the WWN building hasn't moved, we'll put in that address, reference Harmon Coulter, and," he broke off as the app found the restaurant closest to the midpoint between the two buildings. "Carmichael's is almost exactly halfway between our offices. That's obviously out, but there's a hibachi place two blocks closer to you and an Italian place one block over from me. Not a good day for either of us to wear white shirts if we go there, but the baked ziti is excellent."

"Carmichael's is fine."

"Really? No bad juju?"

Robin shrugged. "Ted is banned from Carmichael's. You and I aren't, it's the most convenient location and the food is pretty good."

"Then Carmichael's it is. Two for lunch, Thursday at noon. Done. Second date locked in." He peeked at her screen. She'd entered the time but no name. "I'm fine with you putting down Harmon Cutler. We both know Patrice has boundary issues. The only person who would get more excited over you and I going on a date would be Lily."

Robin's screen went dark. "Lily already knows."

"How does Lily already know?"

"It came up." Twin red splotches rode high on her cheekbones. Robin reached for her shoes again, and this time, she put them on.

He wouldn't ask. "So you two are talking again? That's good. We've all missed you. It's not right when you aren't here."

Robin shook out Barney's coat and folded it before handing it back. "I missed you guys, too." She glanced up and down the street. A lone yellow cab drove by, followed by a pair of delivery trucks. "Um, how are we getting home? It's been a while since we ditched your driver."

"Not to worry. I always book into the wee hours. Let me wake him up from his nap and I'll get you home. All we have to do is get rid of our trash." His fingers brushed fur as he reached behind him for the cardboard tray. A scraggly orange cat regarded them with baleful yellow eyes. "Or we could wait on the corner. Nice kitty." He scrambled from the steps, Robin's hand in his.


	13. Chapter 13

"Robin?" Barney's voice cut through the fog of Robin's sleep when the town car came to a stop. "We're here."

She snuggled deeper into the plane of his shoulder. "Not getting up."

Barney skimmed the back of one hand along the curve of her jaw. "Have to. We're," he let out a long breath. "You're home." He slid away from her by millimeters.

_Home_. Robin groaned. It wasn't, not without him. "Come up with me?"

There was a long pause before he pushed the door open. "It's late." Cool night air rushed in, chilling the bare skin of her legs. Barney climbed out, then extended a hand to her. "I'll see you inside."

She clasped his hand in hers and scooted along the seat, purse clutched in her other hand. They'd done this so many times that her body knew the steps of this routine. Muscle memory took over. One foot hit the curb. She leaned forward, wrap clutched about her shoulders, purse tucked under one arm. Allowed the steady presence of him to assist her out of the car, to stand on her own. His hand slipped from hers, only to settle in the small of her back, bare skin on bare skin. Anticipation shimmered along her flesh. They could do this. Had done this, countless times, gone from a back seat to heated kisses and a tangle of sheets and naked limbs in a matter of minutes.

Abdul looked up from his stand as soon as they passed through the lobby doors. "Good evening tonight, Ms. Sherbatsky?"

Robin pushed her tumbled hair out of her face. "Very good evening. You really are welcome to come up," she whispered to Barney once they reached the elevators.

Barney's upper lip curled, though amusement sparked his eyes. "On a first date? What kind of guy do you think I am?"

"Hopefully," she said with a sly smile, "the kind of guy who's going to give me a goodnight kiss." She allowed her wrap to slip off one shoulder.

He tipped her chin with a touch of his hand. "Now, that, I can do."

Robin's heart raced at the touch of Barney's mouth on hers. He cupped the back of her head in one hand, her bottom in the other and drew her fully to him. Her purse dropped to the floor as she threaded both arms about his neck. She'd missed this. Needed his arms about her, the gentle nibble of teeth on her lower lip. Needed to be held with that unique combination of ardor and reverence only he could provide.

It was over too soon. Barney set himself back and touched two fingers to his own mouth, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He leaned in toward her again, not to kiss her this time, but to punch the elevator call button. "I have to go right now, or I'm not leaving tonight at all."

"You can stay." She reached for his lapel and rolled the edge between thumb and forefinger.

Barney caught her wrist and disengaged her touch. He rubbed at the back of his ear. Shifted his weight from foot to foot. "First date, remember? That's kind of, um," he swallowed, "important to me right now. Thursday, noon, at Carmichael's?"

She didn't understand, not even a little, but the slant of his mouth and tilt of his brows drew forth her answer. _You're an idiot_. "I'll be there."

"Awesome." He flashed her a grin half a second before he zoomed in to steal a kiss. She had no time to react. Barney executed a precise turn and stalked away from her, his shoulders square and head high. He paused at Abdul's stand only long enough to request a high five and leave a single bill in the doorman's hand on his way out.

The elevator chimed its arrival. Robin spared one last glance at the door –he was already gone- and stepped inside. She dug in her purse for her keys, beneath the ruined stockings. _Totally worth it_. She aimed a satisfied smirk at her reflection in the closed elevator doors and readied her keys.

Alberta yapped and barked her excitement at Robin's return even before Robin had the door open. Robin kicked off her shoes and deposited purse and wrap on the table by the door and released Alberta from her crate. She scratched Alberta's chest and neck while she scanned the interior of the crate. The water bowl had taken a hit, but remained in its holder. A slick puddle of slobber dampened the rubber of Alberta's favorite chew toy.

"Want to go out?"

Alberta's tail wagged in a furious circle.

"Me too." Robin filled Alberta's chew toy with kibble to keep her busy and headed for the bedroom. She peeled off the dress and hung it back in its bag, ready for the drycleaner in the morning. She tossed leggings and oversized t-shirt over adhesive bra and boyshorts and shoved her feet into canvas slip-ons. She threw her hair into a messy ponytail, then affixed Alberta's leash. Keys, treats, what else? Alberta danced around Robin's feet on the way to the front closet.

Robin pulled open the closet door. Her fingers brushed wool, cloth, leather. The vintage bomber jacket fell from its hanger and into her grip like an old friend. She shrugged into it and out again in a matter of seconds, then placed the jacket back on the hanger. She couldn't wear Greg's jacket, not tonight, with the taste of Barney's root beer kisses still on her tongue.

She plucked a hooded sweatshirt from a hook on the back of the door instead and vowed to stick the jacket in the mail in the morning. Monday morning, she corrected herself and scratched Alberta's floppy ear. The post office wouldn't be open anyway. Of course something as simple as returning a jacket couldn't be easy. She'd take the stupid thing to work and have Patrice do it. The door locked behind them, Robin led Alberta down the hall and pressed the elevator call button.

"So," she asked the dog while they waited, "what did you do all night while I was gone? I'm going to guess you chewed on Squishy and licked yourself between naps."

Alberta's tail thumped twice against Robin's leg.

"Good girl. When you find something that works, stick with it." They entered the elevator when it arrived. Robin fell silent and waved at the elevator's other occupant, a middle-aged African American woman in surgical scrubs, white lab coat draped over her arm. "Late night, Bettina?"

Dr. Bettina Flynn answered with a good natured shake of her head. "Babies come when babies come. How about you? Hot date?"

"Just got back from one, actually."

"Good for you."

Robin looped Alberta's leash around her wrist as the elevator doors opened. "Yeah, I think he is."

"Well, you go get him, but not in that outfit. Night, Alberta." Bettina wiggled her fingers at Alberta and exited the elevator.

Robin took a treat from the pouch at her waist and offered it to Alberta. One warm breath later, the treat was gone. Robin led Alberta past Abdul's stand and out into the night. "I had fun with Barney," she said as soon as they hit the sidewalk and started on their usual route. "Remember the time we couldn't go to the dog park because some kids found a body there, so we ran the whole jogging trail instead?"

Alberta sniffed at a crumpled paper on the ground, circled a trash can and trotted along on the end of Robin's leash.

"You had so much fun that you bit all the way through your tennis ball, but you still wanted to play with the pieces. It was like that tonight with me and Barney. He kissed me four times." She replayed each one in her mind, a sly smile tilting the corners of her mouth with the memory. "Okay, the first time, I kissed him, but he is really good at kissing."

Alberta looked back at Robin, button eyes bright. Her tongue lolled out of one side of her mouth. She snorted twice.

"I know, he still has the person puppy. Ellie. The person puppy's name is Ellie." The soles of her shoes squeaked on the sidewalk as she came to a stop. She dropped into a crouch and offered a treat. Alberta's tongue, warm and wet, lapped it from her palm. "I'm going to need you to bring your A game on Sunday. There's going to be a lot of people and a lot of other dogs, and we are going to be in the park, but I need you to be my wingpuppy. I'm scared, but I really, really want to play with the pieces."


	14. Chapter 14

"I am going to assume, from the fact that you are still wearing last night's tuxedo at," James consulted his watch, "eight thirty-two in the morning, that the date went either really well or really badly." James tilted his head as Barney bounded up the front steps. "Did you even go home?"

Barney shoved his hands deep into his pockets and ducked his head before he met James's curious gaze. "Things went really well."

James peered past Barney to the BMW parked at the curb. "If Robin's waiting in the car, she doesn't have to. She's welcome to come in anytime."

"That's good to know," Barney answered, "but Robin's not in the car. I was a perfect gentleman last night. I saw her inside as far as her lobby, but we are going out again. Lunch on Thursday. Ellie will be in daycare, so no sitter needed." Barney fought the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet.

James counted on his fingers. "First date last night, second date on Thursday. That makes this coming Sunday your third date. First one in four years. Little brother's getting back in the game. I don't have to call Rhonda French to give you lessons again, do I? Mom said she's been asking about you."

Barney affected an exaggerated shudder. Two encounters with Rhonda French were more than enough. Maybe if he'd never been with her the first time, he wouldn't be in this mess at all. No telling, though, who a Rhonda-less Barney would have become, but if it meant he'd never have met Robin, he didn't want to find out. "Does she still call me Barry?"

"About half the time." James answered with a dry laugh. "She said you should come around sometime."

"No, thanks. It's not even an actual date on Sunday. I'm probably going to spend more time with strange dogs than I am with Robin. She's working the event, and I'm bringing Ellie. We're going to be in a park full of people, dogs and cameras all day long. Nothing is going to happen."

James held up one finger. "Except for Robin meeting Ellie. That's going to be big. Is Robin ready for that?" James stepped back into the entryway and motioned Barney inside. Ellie's portable playpen, broken down and folded, leaned against the staircase, next to stroller and car seat.

Electronic bass notes thumped down the stairs from behind Eli's closed door as Barney followed James down the hall toward the kitchen. No other voices. No baby sounds. Too quiet. He jingled the keys in his pocket. Slightly better. "I hope so. She's the one who invited me, remember? Besides, it's not all going to be about Ellie. I'm meeting Robin's dog. Robin has a dog now, did I mention that? Black and white mutt, one ear up, one ear down. Alberta. You know, after the province, which doesn't make any sense, since Robin is from Vancouver. Vancouver would be a lame dog name. In New York, I mean. It could probably work somewhere like Seattle, or maybe Oregon. Someplace where dogs wear bandanas instead of collars. Maybe I should bring Alberta a present. Not a bandana, though. Dogs like tennis balls, right?"

James pivoted and planted one hand square in the middle of Barney's chest. "Got to stop you there. You're babbling. I get it. You're nervous about Robin meeting Ellie." He turned Barney toward the open pocket doors leading to the living room and pointed him toward the couch on the far side of the room. "Sit. Stay."

Barney dropped onto the leather cushions and folded his arms. Leave it to James to cut through all the crap. Ellie's stuffed zebra lay on the coffee table, next to a pile of crayons and construction paper. "Tom's out with Ellie again, isn't he?" Barney picked up the zebra and checked sewn-on eyes and mouth for loose threads. Nothing. Good. He set it down on the next cushion. Second time in a row Tom and Ellie were out when Barney came to get her, and third time this week. He wasn't imagining the pattern.

"He is," James answered as he settled into the wing chair next to the couch, "and this time, I asked him to take her. Sadie, too."

Barney stood the zebra on all four legs and let it flop onto its side. "Is this the part where you tell me I should be prepared for the chance that Robin really can't handle being around Ellie? That it's going to be like losing Robin all over again, but I can't go off the deep end this time because I have Ellie and you're sick of cleaning up my messes?" Barney scrubbed both hands through his hair. "I know all that. Robin said Ellie's not a dealbreaker. I asked her outright. She wouldn't like about something like that. I know there's no way of telling until they actually meet, but," his gaze flicked to the open door. No telling, either, when Tom and the girls would get back. "Robin asked me to come up with her last night. This morning. After midnight. She said I could stay. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I have to do things right this time. For Robin and for Ellie."

"And for yourself." James leaned forward, hands clasped, elbows balanced on his knees. "It's good that you're looking out for Ellie, and that you're considering Robin's feelings, but you're the only brother I've got. I'm going to need you at the top of your game."

Barney knew that catch in James's voice. "Everything okay?"

This time, it was James who looked back toward the hallway. "Tom does want another kid. We were up with Ellie last night and it came out."

Barney let out a low whistle. "That's big." _Want to take this one_? He flicked the zebra's front hoof with one finger. "Do _you _want another kid?"

James scratched at the back of his neck and sucked air through his teeth. "I love having Ellie around, and she does remind me how great it was when Eli and Sadie were little. We never had an actual newborn, so I get the appeal of finally getting to experience this stage." James cast a pointed look at Ellie's zebra. "Our kids were babies a long time ago. Tom and I were both a lot younger then. Eli will be eighteen and out of the house in three years. He's even talking about the Army, if you can believe that. Sadie's almost ten; she'll be a teenager before we know it. I want Tom to be happy. He's a good father, and I love him, but-" he trailed off with a shake of his head.

"You'll figure it out. You're still up for borrowing Ellie once in a while, right?" 

"Yeah, sure. If Tom and I aren't home, Eli is becoming a hot commodity in the neighborhood babysitting market. He said to mention he'll give you the family discount."

Barney stood the zebra on its hind legs and pumped one of its front legs in the air. "Awesome. I'll take him up on that."

The front door clattered against the wall a split second before Sadie's footsteps pounded against the hardwood floor and up the stairs a moment before she knocked on Eli's door. Tom's steps, slower and more solid, stopped. The door didn't close. "Want me to get her for you?"

Barney hauled himself from the couch. "I'll do it. Could use some help with the car seat, though."

"No problem." James pushed himself out of the chair and followed Barney down the hall.

Tom stood in the doorway, one hand on Ellie's head, one hand on the doorknob. He ducked his head at Barney's approach. "Hey. Sadie had the best idea while we were at the park. James and I were going to surprise Sam by bringing the kids and filling the front pew at service. You and Ellie should come. We could put the car seat in the van, and you guys wouldn't have to go all the way home and drive out later."

_Sure, Sadie's idea_. "Crap, it's not his birthday already, is it?"

"Nah. Mom just thought it would be nice for Dad to have his own family present because he's talking about family today." James slipped by Barney to put an arm around Tom's shoulder and whisper something Barney couldn't hear.

Tom let out a long breath. "It would mean a lot." He dropped a kiss on Ellie's head and lifted her out of the sling.

Not, Barney guessed, only to Sam. "That actually does sound good, but I'm not exactly dressed for it." He took Ellie from Tom and settled her on his shoulder. "Did she eat yet?"

"She doesn't want anything to do with the soy formula, but Eli got her to take half a bottle." Tom extricated himself from the sling and draped it over the banister. "You're talking to Dr. Flynn about going back to cow milk based, right?"

Barney rubbed Ellie's back in slow circles. "I know how to feed my own kid."

"Tom." There was a world of warning in James's voice.

Tom held up both hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry. It really would be good for Sam if everybody came. You can grab a shower here, and I can lend you something less, um," he swept Barney with a quick glance, "formal. How'd it go last night, anyway?"

"It went well." Barney shifted Ellie into the crook of his arm, his hand supporting her head. Blonde wisps curled around his fingers. "What do you say, want to see Grandma and Grandpa early?"


	15. Chapter 15

Robin's pulse pounded like a racehorse headed for the finish line. She approached the hostess stand at Carmichael's precisely at noon, her steps as calm and even as she could will them to be. Her sights zeroed in on the blue French horn, now chained to the wall, under glass for good measure. There was no chance at all that Ted would try to steal it or any other instrument for her again, not now, and not in the foreseeable future. Tracy made Ted happier, merely by being Tracy, than Robin ever could have, if she'd dedicated the rest of her life to trying. Not only was that door closed and locked, but it was bricked over, and Barney's window, against all odds, had flown wide open.

She didn't see Barney at first. Her stomach plummeted. Her feet itched. He wasn't here. She could see the note he'd have left with the hostess for her already. _I'm sorry_, it would say. _I really thought I could do this, but I have to put Ellie first. I hope you understand_. She didn't and she wouldn't. Her gaze flicked to the bar. There was an empty stool three seats from the door, calling her name. A bottle of Crown Royal Special Reserve beckoned from its space on the top shelf.

A flash of motion in the dining room caught her attention. She noticed the shape of him first as he stood, tall and lean, then the colors. Gray suit, blue shirt, dark red tie that brought out the pink in his skin and the blue in his eyes. Blond hair glinted burnished gold under the overhead lights. _Barney_. Her lips formed his name without sound.

She'd teased him once, back before they'd put any labels on him-and-her, about his relying on professional assistance for the color. He'd reddened, affronted at the implication and offered to prove then and there that he was a natural blond. His proof at the time consisted of rolling up his sleeve. She'd learned since then. Now she had absolutely no doubt. Fresh haircut, new tie –he only stroked new ties that way when he adjusted the knot- those were good signs. Very good. Anticipation tingled the tips of Robin's fingers. She willed her weakening knees to hold her upright for the next few steps. All she had to do was get to the chair. It wasn't that far.

"One for lunch?" The hostess consulted her seating chart and tucked a menu under her arm.

Robin tipped her head toward the table where Barney even now pulled out her chair. "I'm meeting someone."

His solar flare smile broke out at that. He fastened the top button on his jacket when Robin returned his wave. Unfastened it when she took her first step toward him. Muscles flexed beneath linen and cotton as he thrust his chest out, shoulders back. His knuckles whitened where he gripped the back of her chair.

Robin strode past the hostess stand and crossed to the table on nude heels she now counted worth every penny. "Hi."

"Hi." Barney managed to get two syllables out of the single word, carried on spearmint scented breath that fell warm on her cheek. He waited for her to settle herself, then guided the chair closer to the table before he returned to his own seat. "Is this awkward?"

"It's kind of awkward."

The corners of his mouth drooped. "But it doesn't have to be, right? I mean we're us. Were us. Have been us." He shook his head. "Should I go back to 'hi' and start over?"

"You're an idiot." Robin picked up the single sheet menu in front of her, black print on thick white cardstock, held by a textured burgundy frame. "This is different."

Barney looked up from his own menu. "They had one of those TV guys come through a couple months back. English guy, yells a lot."

"That doesn't narrow the field." She looked over the selections; beef, chicken, fish, vegetarian. "How much did he change? Literally nothing I have ever eaten here is on this thing."

"Do you trust me?"

Robin flexed one foot, slipped it out of the shoe and back in again. "Um, sure?"

Barney's half smile flashed for a fraction of a second. "Are you feeling safe or adventurous?"

A voice in the back of Robin's head told her he wasn't talking only about the food. She shifted in her seat. "Adventurous, with the caveat that I do have to go back to work when we're done here. Speaking of which, can you drink? I would love a good scotch. Maybe a whisky. They have Crown Royal. My treat." She'd missed the way he held a rocks glass, swirled it and stared into its depths when he couldn't find the right words. Watching him do that had always steadied her as much as the drink itself. She could use both about now.

There was a pause before he answered. "You go ahead. I have to," he turned his attention to the menu once more. "I have an important meeting first thing when I get back, with, um," his fingers drummed against the table, "a very demanding client. I need to stay focused."

Robin's shoe dropped to the floor. She swept her foot around beneath the table in slow, careful arcs that expanded by the smallest degree possible. Accidental footsie was the last thing she needed right now, or on-purpose footsie, for that matter. Barney wasn't going to drink with her now because he'd be spending time with Ellie afterward. He didn't have to spell that out for Robin to catch the meaning. "How is she?" _She_. Robin gave herself a mental smack. She couldn't say Barney's daughter's name. It shouldn't be that difficult. _Ellie_._ El-lie_. Two syllables. She imagined the name projected on a teleprompter across from an anchor desk. _Ellie. Nope, not happening_. _Coward_. Her toe brushed the edge of his pant leg as she connected with her shoe at last. She drew the shoe back toward her as fast as she could.

Barney lifted one brow. "So we're steering _into_ the awkwardness this time? Interesting choice, but since you asked," He set the menu down and clasped his hands on top of it, then leveled a direct stare at Robin, "Ellie hates her new formula, so we're going back to the old one, unless I hire a wet nurse or get hooked up with a milk bank. Her diapers qualify as toxic waste. She's more of a night owl than me in my twenties, and she does not suck her thumb. She sucks her entire fist. I don't know whether to be proud or creeped out by that." He picked up the menu again and eyed her over the top of it. "Sorry you asked?"

Robin pressed her lips together and fit her foot back into the shoe. "No. Ellie is a part of your life now. If we're going to be in each other's lives, then there are certain things we're going to have to talk about." There. Facts. If x, then y. Plain, rational, unemotional facts. She bounced her foot under the table.

"Are you still okay with meeting her on Sunday? I mean, we can put it off if you need more time. I could still come and check out," he paused for a sip of water, "the dogs."

"No, bring her. I invited both of you, and besides, you're both already on the list." Robin clutched the menu in both hands. The stitching on the menu's frame dug into her palms. "Unless you don't want her to meet, um, dogs, anymore." She stared hard at the black lettering of the menu. Words and numbers swirled before her eyes.

Barney's voice came barely above a whisper. "Of course I want her to meet dogs. Dogs are awesome. Every kid should have a dog."

"You didn't."

"Robin." His hand rested atop hers, loosed the menu from her grip before his fingers laced with hers. "I want this. I want you. Us. All of us. We can do this."

She clung to the quiet certainty in his voice, the warmth of his skin on hers. _Maybe_. His thumb glided across her palm in gentle arcs. "I'm scared. What if she hates me?" _What if I look at her and all I can see is the random bimbo who gave you what I never could_? _What if there's only room in your life for one of us_?

"Ellie's a baby. She doesn't hate anybody."

"She hates her formula."

Barney's nose wrinkled. His upper lip curled. "I hate her formula, too. I tried it. It's disgusting." He leaned in only enough to brush his lips over the back of her hand. "The food here is much better. Trust me." He signaled the waiter. "We're ready."


	16. Chapter 16

"Sunday is going to be a big day for everybody," Barney said as soon as the waiter departed. "You're not the only one nervous about meeting somebody important. Is it true dogs can smell fear?"

The corners of Robin's mouth twitched, and Barney allowed himself a small measure of relief at the sight. If he could make her smile, make her laugh, then it was worth anything. "You're afraid of meeting Alberta? What do you think she's going to do, lick you to death? She fits in my purse."

Not, Barney guessed, the small leather clutch resting next to her chair. "Remember who you're talking to here. I'm the one who made you promise on your mother's life that you would never again put some guy ahead of your dogs. I mean it, even if I happen to be that guy. Think it would help if I stuffed my pockets with dog treats? I am willing to do that if it would make even the slightest difference."

Robin's nose crinkled. "You'd never make it past the first kennel. Dogs love you anyway; you're a natural. All my other dogs liked you." Guilt still pinched her features at the mention of her first dogs. They'd all be gone now, he imagined, and felt their loss more than he thought he would. She should have had more time with them. "Brover loved you."

Barney waved a hand in dismissal. "That's only because our entire relationship was based on helping each other score. I doubt that's going to work with Alberta. That did not come out the way I meant it," he added at the lift of Robin's brows. "If she likes me, that's a point in my favor, right?"

"A big point." Her cheeks flushed the same bright pink as her dress. She reached for her water glass and took a drink. "That didn't come out right, either. None of the dogs at the event are scoring with anybody. We're partnered with a spay and neuter clinic."

"Number Thirty One offered to have me neutered. Offered to do it herself, actually, and I will say that she is not by any means a medical professional." He stopped himself there. Robin wasn't smiling this time. "Sorry, not date appropriate conversation. We should go back to dogs. Does Alberta like tennis balls?"

A fond warmth lit Robin's eyes. Her lashes dipped in that way that hinted at something she wasn't ready to share yet. "Loves them. Seriously, you have nothing to worry about. Alberta loves everybody."

"Did she love Greg?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Barney knew they were the wrong ones. He bit back the question he didn't dare ask. _Did _you_ love Greg_? The warmth left Robin's eyes. Her jaw tightened. The soft thump of shoe hitting floor broke the silence that fell like a curtain between them. "Sorry. Forget I said anything. Oh, look, it's our waiter. He has salad. I have never been this glad to see salad in my entire life." He added a half hearted fistpump for good measure.

The waiter set a frosted glass bowl and a pair of stainless steel tongs in the center of the table, one smaller glass plate in front each of them, along with a cruet of oil and vinegar. A quick assurance that their entrees would be right out, and the waiter was gone. Neither Barney nor Robin reached for the tongs.

Robin looked down and adjusted the napkin in her lap. Her ankle banged against Barney's beneath the table, her bare toe a moment later. She drew back both times as if contact with him had burned her. "Alberta was post-Greg." She bent in her seat and plucked at the edge of the tablecloth.

Barney scooted his chair back to do the same. A lone nude pump lay on its side an inch from his left foot. He nudged it back toward Robin and pulled his chair back in. Robin bouncing her shoes was better than her throwing them, but still not an action he wanted to inspire. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up, either." He didn't want to start counting his apologies, but he knew there were too many for such a short span of time. He had to turn this around. "Good looking salad, huh? Green and purple lettuce, that's fancy. I bet they even make their own croutons here. That English guy is always big on homemade croutons." He snatched up the tongs and dumped the contents on Robin's plate.

"Sure you don't want to adopt a rabbit instead of a dog?"

The tone of Robin's voice froze Barney's hand on his next dip into the bowl. Her stare rested on him like a physical touch. He clamped his mouth shut and ran the tip of his tongue over top and bottom teeth. No, no lettuce stuck there, green or purple. There couldn't be. He hadn't eaten anything yet. His fingers contracted and released. Another mound of green and purple appeared on Robin's plate, shreds of orange scattering down as he retracted the tongs. A rabbit would be a big help. That was a lot of salad. He moved half of the mound to his own plate. _She's still staring_. _Crap_. Now the next table was staring, too. He moved half of the contents of each plate back to the bowl. "Dressing?"

Robin's hand covered the cruet and pulled it out of his reach. "Better let me handle that."

"Probably wise."

Robin drew the stopper from first one side of the cruet and then the other, to drizzle oil and vinegar over both plates. "There's something you should know about Alberta before you meet her. She's not only a pet."

A forkful of purple lettuce paused halfway to Barney's mouth. "Does she fight crime?"

Brown hair fell forward to shadow Robin's cheek. She moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue and flicked her hair back. "Almost." She poked at her salad with her fork and rolled a cherry tomato into a nest of shredded carrots.

"Quit playing with your food."

Robin startled at the sharp sound of Barney's voice, then speared the tomato and popped it into her mouth.

"I have no idea where that came from." He tried to summon a self deprecating grin, but it wouldn't come. That wasn't funny. His own voice echoed, too harsh, in his ears. "Jumped right out all on its own. I sound like somebody's dad."

"You _are_ somebody's dad."

He tilted his head in acknowledgement and rubbed at the muscle that jumped in the back of his neck. He didn't need the reminder. This wasn't about Ellie. Her food came out of a bottle. He didn't want to talk about Ellie, not when Robin had something important enough on her mind to make her fiddle with food. "You were saying about Alberta?"

Robin reached for her water glass and blinked, as though the question had pulled her back from some other place. "Alberta is my emotional support animal. For my panic attacks."

Barney took Robin's hand in his. "Are you okay? She's not with you now. Do you need her? Can Patrice bring her?" He turned her hand and brushed his thumb over the inside of her wrist. "Can she even come in restaurants? We could have found someplace dog friendly. You should have told me."

Robin stopped him with a touch. "I'm fine most of the time. I can work. I can go to lunch. It's good to have someone there when I travel, so I'm not completely alone in a strange place. She has papers that allow her go with me when I need her."

He made a mental note to look up emotional support animals after he had time with Ellie. "If that's all it took, maybe I should have looked into getting papers when we were married. I could have been your emotional support husband. Then I could have gone with you all the time. Maybe if I'd focused more on being there for you, things could have been different."

"Barney, no. That wasn't your job." Her grip on his hand tightened, as though she could shut off the idea that a dog could take better care of her than he could.

"No, it was. We were married. I should have been there for you, and I wasn't. I didn't know what it meant back then to have somebody depend on me. Guess it took Ellie to teach me that. She can't even roll herself over, but she's already smarter than her old man." He released his hold and pulled his hand back.

Robin captured his cuff between two fingers and worked her hand back into his. "If she gets even half your smarts, she's going to be unstoppable. Same as her dad. You got me to say yes to a second date. That's something."

"Better than that," Barney said as their waiter approached, tray in hand. "It's everything. Ellie's going to love you."


	17. Chapter 17

Robin paced the floor of her trailer, phone held to her ear. "Lily, you have under five minutes to talk me down. Barney texted me from the gate. He's here." No, not only Barney. "_They're_ here. Security is escorting Barney and Ellie to my trailer right now. Can babies smell fear? If they can, this kid is in for a world of stink."

"Sweetie, that's dogs." Lily's voice carried over the muted sounds of cartoons playing in the background on the other end of the line.

One extra spritz of cherry blossom body spray wouldn't hurt. Unless any perfume was too much. _Damn it_. Robin snatched a tissue from the box on the table next to her makeup case and mopped at the base of her throat. "But Ellie is _Barney's_ baby. That means she's smarter than regular babies. Except for your babies. Your babies are all geniuses. Well-behaved, too. You should bring them over, right now. Kids love dogs."

Lily heaved a sigh of pure exasperation. "We've been over this. I can't bring three kids to a dog adoption event and not come home with a puppy, especially with how dog crazy Daisy is. That would be cruel. You're going to do fine."

_No, no, I'm not_. "That's easy for you to say. You're not meeting Ellie for the first time. She's Barney's kid. She's bound to have people skills other babies can only dream of; adults, even. I only get one chance to make a first impression. What was Ellie like when you met her? What did you do? Did she like that?" Maybe if she had some sort of baseline, she could find a chink in the solid wall of terror that boxed her in on all sides. "She likes you, right?"

"Ellie was asleep when I first met her, because she was just born. I looked at her through the nursery window and wiggled my fingers. To be honest, I was more concerned with how Barney was doing. Take a deep breath and relax. Ellie is too young to remember anything you do today. As long as you don't drop her on her head, you're good."

Robin shifted the phone to her other ear. "You mean I have to hold her?" Her thumb worried at the empty spot where her wedding ring used to be. Nobody said anything about holding Ellie. Only meeting her. Wiggling fingers through a pane of glass sounded a lot safer, and a lot more appealing. "What if I do drop her on her head? You can't promise I won't. I'm all slick with lotion and sunscreen. Barney will hate me."

A loud crash of blocks and a toddler's wail cut off Lily's response. "Marvin, apologize to your sister. Now. Share the blocks or they're going away. I mean it. Just a sec." Lily's voice gave way to the click of plastic on granite, then two high pitched voices talking over each other. Even over the phone, Robin could imagine the arch look Lily would level at her children to make them mind. Lily was a natural. Lily had three babies and she'd never dropped one of them. Lily's kids had to like her; she'd made them, and she didn't want to take their daddy away. One big happy family, the five of them, picture-perfect. "Okay," Lily said at last. "I'm back. Barney is not going to hate you, and you are not going to drop Ellie. If you don't want to hold her, you don't have to hold her."

Robin shut her eyes tight and pressed a hand to her stomach. The pancakes she'd forced herself to eat at the media breakfast threatened to make a return appearance. "Yes, I do. If Barney asks me to hold that baby and I say I don't want to, he's going to think I don't-" She broke off at the sound of three sharp raps on her trailer's door. Patrice's knock. "I should go."

"No, you just had juice. You can wait until lunch. Not you, sweetie. Daisy just had juice. You love Barney and Barney loves you. Everything else is just details. Call me after."

"Robin?" The latch turned a second after Lily ended the call. Half of Patrice's face appeared between door and wall. "Robin, your guests are here."

The skin on the backs of Robin's legs tingled. Her muscles tensed with the desire to run. She drew in a deep breath and slipped the phone into the pocket of her navy linen trousers. "Okay. I'll be right out. Can you get Alberta for me? I need her. "

Patrice's head dipped in a nod. "Sure thing." The door shut without a sound.

In a minute, Robin told herself, she'd have Alberta's leash in her hand. In a minute, she would step out that door, down two steps and be face to face with Barney and his baby. Literal living, breathing proof that life went on for him after their divorce. She fingered the silver wishbone charm that hung at her neck and willed her pulse to slow. She pushed open the door before she could talk herself out of it and kept her head down until she'd cleared the steps. Alberta's paws danced on the grass, between the bright streaks of fuschia that were Patrice's shoes. Robin put her hand out for the leash and only looked up when her fingers closed around the worn leather loop.

Only Barney would wear a suit to a dog adoption event, but she wouldn't have expected any less. She'd put down cash money that some intern would mistake him for on air talent or one of the local politicians and try to mic him before the event actually opened to the public. She allowed herself a moment to drink in the sight of him, piece by piece: tan single button suit, white on blue windowpane check shirt, solid navy tie, gray stroller with pink piping. Crap. The person puppy was real, and she was in that thing. Robin summoned her best photo-op smile and raised her gaze to meet Barney's. Maybe, if she ignored the stroller, focused only on Barney, it wouldn't be quite so scary.

Barney motioned to Patrice, then stepped away from the stroller and toward Robin, eyes bright, arms open. The brush of his lips against her cheek electrified every inch of her, spurred her to raise herself on tiptoe and return the gesture as his arms closed about her. His skin, smooth and warm to her touch, smelled of mint, citrus and baby powder. He'd worn that same scent, minus the baby powder, all during their secret summer together. He remembered. So did she. She drew back. "Hey, you made it."

"Wouldn't miss it. I've never seen so many waggly butts in one place before. Puppies everywhere. I kept the hood up on the stroller so Alberta will be the first dog Ellie ever actually sees."

"Well, here she is." Robin signaled Alberta to sit and stay. "Ellie will be Alberta's first baby, too. Alberta, shake."

Barney dropped down to a crouch and took Alberta's offered paw in his hand. "Good to meet you, Alberta." One shake, and then she nosed at his breast pocket. "I actually did bring treats. Same brand as the event sponsor. Is that okay?"

Alberta turned big brown eyes on Robin, accompanied by a plaintive whimper.

"It's fine. If it's liver flavor, you'll be her new best friend."

"Guess this is her lucky day, then." Barney placed a single treat in his palm and held it out to Alberta. Two seconds later, he stood and flipped his hand upside down, brows knit in confusion. "You didn't tell me Alberta did magic. Is she part vacuum or something? I didn't feel lips or whiskers or tongue or anything."

In another life, they both would have added _that's what she said_ at the same time and capped it off with a high five, neither of which were even close to appropriate for the current venue. Robin bit her lower lip and bent to scratch Alberta behind her floppy ear. "The shelter said terrier mix. Could be some vacuum in there somewhere. Did she slime you?"

"She did not." Barney swept his hand along the opposite sleeve to demonstrate. "Which is more than I can say for Ellie. This is the third shirt I've had on this morning, thanks to her."

That, Robin could imagine all too well. "I bet your drycleaner loves her."

"Adores her is more like it. Hey, check this out." He unclipped a laminated card from the hood of the stroller and held it out to Robin. "Ellie got her own VIP pass, with her picture on it and everything. You have to sign this sucker, because it is going straight in her baby book. How many babies get their own VIP passes?"

Robin bit her lower lip and plucked the ID tag from Barney's grasp. "Um, not many." He'd want some comment from her. She could tell by the expectant set of brows and mouth, the way his breath caught in his throat. Damn. She was going to have to look at the picture. Better picture than actual baby. She wound Alberta's leash around her hand once and focused on the crisp black letters next to the picture. Maybe if she focused on the words first, she could work up to the picture.

Not, she told herself a second later, the best possible move. Her eyes went right to the name, Ellie Stinson, in boldface beneath the picture she wasn't yet ready to see. She didn't know what Ellie was short for. Eleanor? Elizabeth? Eloise? She should know something like that. Ellie didn't seem like a name Barney would pick. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe that was Number Thirty One's choice and Barney didn't get any say in the matter. All he got was to raise the kid on his own. A muscle in her arm contracted. Alberta yelped. "Sorry, baby." Robin bent to smooth Alberta's ruffled fur. She straightened and extended the ID back to Barney, at arm's length. "You'd better take this. I'll sign it at the end of the day."

"Sure." Barney clipped the ID back onto the stroller and regarded Robin over the pink ruffle along the edge of the hood. "Ready to meet Ellie?" Expectation rolled from him in waves as he bent over the stroller and reached inside it.

Panic slammed into Robin in full force. Her stomach churned, chest tightened. She closed her eyes against lights gone too bright, colors too sharp. Her head throbbed against a cacophony of dog barks, human voices, motors, the hum of electronic equipment. Alberta pawed at her leg, the signal to sit down. Robin lowered herself to the trailer steps and pulled Alberta into her lap. _Okay, Panic, you want to dance? Let's dance. _

She swirled her fingers into the fur of Alberta's chest and rubbed in counterclockwise circles. Meeting the person puppy was not negotiable. She'd already been through hair and makeup, she was contracted for the day, and she'd have some explaining to do to Barney, WWN and SuperMutts if she took off running. So, no running; that was a decision. Knowing what she wasn't going to do was the first step.

"Robin?" Barney's voice cut through the swirling chaos of thought, low enough so only she could hear. "Are you okay?"

She fixed her attention on his shoes, brown leather with six eyelets for the laces. "Nope."

"Panic attack?"

"Yep."

The shoes came one step closer. "Do you want some company? Patrice can watch Ellie if you're not ready for-."

"I'm ready." The words came out on their own, the churning in Robin's gut replaced by a flutter in her chest. Ellie's first impression of her was not going to be of a crazy lady with the cold sweats. _Suck it, Panic. If I can stand in front of mortar fire and look into a camera, I can sit on my trailer steps and look at a baby. Even Barney's baby. _"I want to meet Ellie. Patrice, can we get a chair over here?"


	18. Chapter 18

Brown leather oxfords made way for fuchsia flats and the hem of Patrice's flowered skirt. Flats and oxfords shuffled about until all four legs of the metal folding chair rested on solid ground. Chair in place, the flats retreated and oxfords took their place again. Tan socks showed as Barney settled into his seat.

Robin stroked Alberta in long, smooth motions from head to tail, then over again. She could do this. Baby steps. She winced at the choice of words. Her gaze traveled up along tan linen pant legs until she came to a pair of white booties scattered with tiny black paw prints. The memory of a long-ago fishy sock rose in her mind. _Sock_. She'd stolen one sock from a neighbor's baby and Barney had stolen the other. In any right and just world, that would have been a portent of things to come, of _their_ baby a few more miles down the road. This world was neither just nor fair.

If Robin were going to back out of this, this was her moment. _I'm sorry. I can't_. The words lodged in her throat, stopped short of her tongue. This was also her chance to find out how Barney Stinson would dress a baby girl, and curiosity outranked fear. Two more circles on Alberta's chest earned her a lick and the press of Alberta's wet nose against the bare flesh of her upper arm. He'd put a boy in a suit, she knew that without a doubt, but a girl? She couldn't even begin to guess. She'd have to look.

"Robin Charles Sherbatsky, Junior, allow me to introduce Danielle Rebecca Stinson. Ellie, this pretty lady is Aunt Robin. The short, fuzzy one is Alberta. She's a dog. We talked about dogs." Barney cradled Ellie in the crook of his arm, positioned for Robin's inspection. His baby, blonde and blue-eyed, dressed in pink ruffled skirt and heather gray onesie. His baby but not hers. Robin's empty womb ached.

Alberta wriggled in Robin's arms, strained forward to investigate the new arrival. Robin held her back. She needed more time. She'd seen Barney hold babies before; Eli, Sadie, Marvin, Daisy, Penny, Luke. Not Rose. She'd never seen Barney hold Rose, because they were divorced by then, and invitations had turned to either or occasions. Invite Robin _or_ invite Barney, and catch the other one next time. Never the twain would meet. If he was there, she wasn't, and the other way round. She hadn't wanted to see him hold anybody's baby after the divorce. Hadn't wanted to see him living his life without her, because that would have shattered the last bit of her heart she'd managed to keep intact. She marveled that it still beat now.

"Hi, Ellie." There. She'd got the words out. Said the person puppy's name. "Wow, she really looks like you."

Barney stroked Ellie's hair, cornsilk-pale against pink skin. "Yeah, poor kid." One corner of his mouth slanted up, the other down. "Not sure how this mug is going to translate into girl."

"No, she's beautiful." Robin focused on each feature in turn. Ellie really did look like Barney. Maybe a little like Loretta, but baby faces changed every day. Maybe next time, a stranger's mouth or nose would jump out at her, maybe not. Not the eyes, though. Those eyes weren't baby blue, they were Barney-blue, unfocused and round. "Can I hold her?"

Barney's brows shot up. His forehead creased. "You really want to?"

_No_, Robin's rational mind screamed, but it was too late by then. "I need to. Switch?" Robin tapped Alberta's bottom, the signal to get down.

"Yeah, sure. Support her head." Gold-tipped lashes dipped. His face flushed. "Sorry, you know that."

She did know. They'd transferred nieces and nephews between them, hundreds of times. This, too, their bodies remembered. As easy as old times, Robin had Ellie in her arms. The tiny body squirmed, fists and feet waved in an attempt to find a comfortable spot in this stranger's arms. "Danielle, huh?"

Barney pressed a thumb to his temple, then reached down to scoop one hand under Alberta's belly. "Number Thirty One picked the names. That was one of her conditions. Can we not talk about her right now?" He plopped Alberta into his lap and ruffled the fur behind her ears. She nosed at his pocket and let out a hopeful yip. "Can Alberta have another treat?"

Robin didn't answer at first, too transfixed by the feel of Barney's baby in her arms. Ellie quieted, one fist in her mouth, the other clamped around Robin's finger. Robin's breath caught. "She grabbed my finger."

Barney swallowed. He plucked a treat from his pocket without waiting for Robin's answer. Alberta sniffed once, then nipped the treat from his hand. "She likes you. What do you," his mouth pressed into a thin line, lips white, before he could continue. "What do you think of her?"

"She's awesome." The words came out in a whisper, half a second before her rational brain reminded her exactly how the mini-Barney in her arms had been conceived. It didn't matter. It did, but the desperate need in Barney's eyes mattered more. Ellie sucked on her fist, her grip on Robin's finger firm. Robin couldn't forget where this baby came from, but she could try to deal with it. She could give Barney that. "Really."

"You're awesome." A silence fell between them, louder than barking dogs and sound checks. "I love you." He leaned in to kiss her then, one hand threading itself into her hair, the other braced on the side of the trailer's step.

Robin's heart quivered. His mouth covered hers, tender, affectionate rather than sexual. Familiar. Right. _This_. This was what it would feel like to have her own family, even this fleeting taste of it. This was what Lily and Tracy got at the start and end of every day, and all those thousands of moments in between. No wonder she'd had to leave.

Ellie startled and wailed at the sound of a camera's shutter. By instinct, Robin shifted Ellie onto her shoulder, turned Ellie's head into the curtain of her hair.

Barney broke away from them to face the source of the sound, his stance wide, chest thrust out. "Private moment here. Plenty of time for pictures later."

"Sorry, guys." Patrice inserted herself between Barney and the cameraman. "Barney, the releases you signed for yourself and Ellie include candid shots behind the scenes. Greg is only doing his job."

"Greg?" Barney repeated the name, his voice flat. He spared Robin a quick look back over his shoulder and jabbed his thumb in the cameraman's direction. "Your Greg?"

Robin stroked Ellie's back and rocked her, whispered soft nonsense sounds in her ear. She knew what she'd see even before the photographer lowered his camera, knew the short brown hair with its speckles of silver, the stretch of maroon fitted t-shirt across broad chest. She'd stolen that shirt their first night in Montauk, and left it folded on the bed when she moved out. Greg. Here. Damn. "Barney, can you take her?" The words strangled on her tongue, so low she could barely hear herself. She turned to Barney, her appeal mute, and let him take Ellie from her before she hauled herself to her feet with a weary breath. "What are you doing here?"

Greg lowered his camera. Straight brown brows lifted over hazel eyes. "Taking pictures."

"Yeah, I figured that." Robin shoved her hands into her pockets. Barney had Ellie on his shoulder now, the same way Robin had held her. She'd been doing that right, at least. You should have told me you were going to be here."

"I wanted it to be a surprise." Vintage canvas high top sneakers shifted on the grass. "You weren't returning any of my calls. No texts, no voicemails, no emails. I even sent you a postcard."

Robin nodded her thanks as Patrice slipped Alberta's leash around her wrist. "I know. I got it."

"But you didn't answer."

_Damn it, not now_. Robin took a step back, next to Barney and Ellie. She lay a hand on Barney's arm. "Barney, this is Greg Randall. Greg takes amazing portraits. We, um, worked together a while back. Greg, this is Barney Stinson, my husband, and his daughter, Ellie."

Barney shifted Ellie to his other shoulder and held out his right hand. "Greg."

"You mean ex-husband, right?" Greg shook Barney's hand, but his gaze rested firmly on Robin.

Robin blinked. It wasn't fair of Greg to show up unannounced and look at her like that, like he was taking her picture with some fancy camera inside his head. He was, she knew it. Not fair, and not anywhere close to cool, especially not now, not with Barney right there. "Yeah. That's what I said. Ex-husband."

"You didn't say ex."

"I said ex. Barney, didn't I say ex?"

Barney's eyes glimmered at her over Ellie's head, his smile broad and infectuous. "You did not say ex."

"Patrice? I said ex, didn't I? You heard me say ex. I said ex. Barney and I are totally divorced. I have the paperwork and everything. He has a baby that looks nothing like me."

Patrice shook her head. "You didn't say ex."

_Well, shit_. "Guess I never had to introduce you to anybody as my ex before. Not ex-husband. Ex-boyfriend, though. There was that, but, um," she ran the tip of her tongue over lips gone dry and prayed that nobody within earshot was mic'd.

"Robin?" Patrice's voice cut into the awkward silence. "They're going to want to see you back in hair before the gates open. I think there's just enough time. Barney, Greg has to get shots of all the VIPs and their guests. Robin has time after the opening ceremony. Is that good for you and Ellie?"


End file.
